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HISTORY 



OF THE 



GALLEY FAMILY 



WITH 



ocal and Old-Time Sketches 



IN THE YOUGH REGION 



BY 



HENRItTTA GALLEY and J. O. ARNOLD, M.D. 



Edition Limited to 350 Copies, of which this is 2^0.— ^J-Li 



PRESS 

PHILADELPHIA PRINTING AND PUBLISHING CO. 

PHILADELPHIA, PA. 

1908 



u^ 






LIBHABY ol CUNuKESS! 
twu Ouoies heceive^ 

AUG 12 )y08 

OLAS» v>^ XXc. Nu. 

COPY a. 



COPYRIGHT, 


1908, 






BY 




J. 


O. 


ARNOLD 


, M. D. 






HON. HENRY GALLEY. 

Author of the first chapter of the Family History ami 
proposer of the Galley Family Reunion. 




HENRIETTA GALLEY. 

Secretary of the Galley Reunic 
and author of the Family 
History. 



JESSE OGLEVEE ARNOLD, M.D, 

Author of the Local and Old- 
Tim h Sketches and Editor 
and Publisher of the Book. 




Preface 



IT HEN Henry Ward Bcecher was asked for wliat he was most lliankful 

If life, he rephed: "Ancestors, ancestors that loved God, and did not f- 

* man." 
The mission of tiiis httle book, is to honor the memory of wortliy anc 

rs, who loved God and feared not man; and to aid in preserving the histc 
those ancestors, and of the life, manners and customs of the days in wh 

ey lived. 

More than 20 years ago, the late Hon. Henry Galley, of Dickerson Run. I 

came interested in hunting up the family records of his ancestors. 

The results of his cfiforts at that time are embodied in the first chapter 

e Family History portion of this book. Mr. Galley also set on foot the ph 
■jiich culminated in 1897 in the first reunion of the widely scattered family 

liich he belonged. 

; At this reunion many expressed the desire to see the family history co 
1 :ted and put in print for permanent preservation. Nothing definite was dc 
i this dirction, however, until the annual family meeting of 1906, when 
T|;w of the fact that the next year would be the tenth anniversary of the fi 
I jnion, and the time appointed for the second general reunion, it was decit 
t try to prepare and publish a "Family History'' for that occasion. 

( Naturally the friends turned with one accord to the reunion Secreta 
] ss Henrietta Galley, as the one person best qualified for this work, and l 
•^jiter hereof was assigned to the duty of assisting her. Miss Galley was 
t|it time, and has been ever since, sojourning on the Pacific Coast, and 1 
"sjiter's home is in Philadelphia. Not the most favorable circumstances, p 
1 Ips, for successful co-operation in such an undertaking, but being removed fr( 
fbh other "as far as the East is from the West" we at least felt safe from 1 
c|ngers of personal encounter, however much we might fear the attacks 
(!iers. In due time we started in with the avowed intention to "allow 
g ilty one to escape" between the Atlantic and the Pacific. 

' Quoting from our prospectus: "It was suggested that we should not oi 
fblish the family records in as complete and serviceable a shape as possit 
bit that we should make the History' doubly interesting by including in ii 
c ijcription of "the good old times of long ago." 

! We undertook the task "in fear and trembling," for we thought we kn 
s nething of the difficulties that confronted us. Time has taught us that 
d not begin to know the enormity of our undertaking, and only a sense 
c :y to the friends who had thus shown their confidence in us, as well as 
tl memory of our ancestors and to the family at large, could ever have p 
sided us to persevere in what we have found to be a far more difficult a 
tie-consuming work, under the circumstances, than we had any idea of 
fi t." The task of gathering even a small amount of accurate data concei 
ii more than a thousand persons scattered all over this broad land, is not 
e fy one or one that can be accomplished quickly. To this task my co-labo! 
Ii given the most of her time in the past two years. She soon found that s 
MS not dealing with "the short and simple annals of the poor;" that "t 
n re record of her kinship was prolonged and complex, and that the abour 
ii riches of their lives is exemplified in nothing more vividh'. tlian in tlic i 
f; ing biennial fruitage of their family trees." Any reader who may be inclir 
t( :hink the getting up of a family history is but a pleasant pastime for a su 
n - holiday, would do well to communicate with Miss Galley before beginni 
tl work. 



Tlu- chapter of her experiences in this connection would in itself make an 
interesting addition to the hook. Many of tlibse were indeed discouraging, 
others were e<|ually hopeful and helpful, some' were mirth-provoking in the 
extreme, and some were well-nigh i;r()voking without the mirth; hut with it all 
she has heen long sutTering and patient, and has given us a most valuahle family 
historj-. 

Although she would not have us even refer to the amount of hard work 
?hc has done, or to the many difhcuUies and discouragements she had to meet, 
yet we feel th.at it is oidy fairness and justice that the friends everywhere 
should know at least something of "the trials and tribulations" of their worthy 
historian. Say what you please about all the rest of the book, but spare your 
criticisms of that portion devoted to the family records. 

If it is not as complete and accurate in every respect as you would like, 
we assure you it is from no lack of efifort to have it so. and that in all prob- 
abilitv it is because j'ou, or some of the other good friends failed to be as 
prom''pt or as careful as you should have been in replying to the incjuiries sent 
j-ou. 

Even after the manuscript was ready for the printer, names and data con- 
tinued to arrive in reply to letters that had been sent out many months before. 
We waited as long as wc felt was justice to those who had been prompt, or 
safe To our -own physical welfare. The volume had to be closed, however 
miicli we regretted to leave out many names that should be on the records. 

We suggest that blank pages here and there, and names and dates neces- 
sarily omitted, may be filled in by these in position to do so, or who would use 
the book as an individual familj^ record. 

On the whole, we do not hesitate to say that a worthy family has been 
given a most complete and commendable history, for which we all owe a lasting 
debt of gratitude to its author and comi)iler. Miss Henrietta Galley. 

As to Parts II and TIT. perhaps a few words of explanation are in order. 

Tfte lives of many of the descendents of Peter Galley were so intimately 
associated with the region of the Vouhiogheny River, in the beautiful valley of 
which his only son Philii), as a pioneer settler, located and raised his family 
of eleven children, that any history of the Galley Family could scarcely be 
considered complete, that did not include at least a resume of the life and times 
and activities that have characterized this historic region. Then again, so many 
whose childhood days were spent here, or who are interested because their 
parents or grandparents were born and raised in this region, have suggested 
that this or that bit (jf history be included; this change with its whj's and 
wherefores noted, that historic spot located or event narrated; and especially 
that those old-time social and domestic customs once prevalent here, should 
be described; that we have felt justified in adding the various and varied old- 
time sketches found in Part III. 

Of course such extraneous matter as this cannot be considered strictly 
within the province of a l''amily History, but we have not tried to follow pre- 
cedent, nor written to pl.acate critics, or please the literati. Our only aim has 
been to give our readers the most interesting and most u.seful book possible 
under the circumstances, and to follow as closely as we could, their sugges- 
tions as lo what would really be useful and interesting. The writer regrets 
very much that his part of the work has had to be put out in such unfinished 
and incfimplete shape. He is painfully aware of the many imperfections to be 
found throughout the historic notes and sketches, and while he would offer no 
apo'ogy. he deems it but fair to say that he h.is had absolutely no time to re- 
write f)r even m.ake extensive corrections. 

The greater ])art of his work was necess.irily done at odd hours crowded 
into the measure r)f a i)rofe-sional life already full. He standi ready to admit 
the truth of the criticisms which Ic Knows are sure to be offered, and he hasn't 



doubt that tlnTc arc scores of c)llu-r> in tlu- family wlio cnulij liave done t 
inic work in less time and a great deal belter, hut unfortunately tiie duty \ 
laced upon him, and not upon one of those l)etter (|ualilied to do it. VVe i 
nly hope that as our readers get farther and farther away from the times i 
lings we iiave herein described, the increasing interest in the subject mat 
self, will charitably cover up a multitude of literary sins, and will enable ' 
ttle book, in years to come, to stand out in something like the fullness 
ature, which we had once fondlj' hoped to give it, e'er it left our hands. 

A word as to our fountain-heads of information. In those chapters pur 
istorical, we have consulted many books and authorities, and have gathe 
ur data from the most reliable sources. The greater part of our narrativ 
le description of old-time places, persons and events — was obtained direc 
•om friends and members of the family, who, by virtue of their age, 
-peak as one having authority." We have had much encouragement and h 
om a number of friends of mature experience, whom we refrain from call 
Id. for we have found them, as a rule, far younger in spirit and in interest 
ur work, than their figures in the family records would indicate. To all tin 
'e are deeply' grateful, and throughout our work we have had the aid of m; 
ersons and books whose help we can only thus generally, but gratefi 
cknowlcdgc. In several chapters it will be seen we have quoted directly ; 
xtensively from the writings of others. Especially are we indebted to t 
lost excellent recent publication, "The Centeiniial History of Connellsville" 
inch of the historv of the coke industry, and the story of Colonel Crawfc 
earight's classic history of the "Old Pike." Veech's "Monongahela of O 
ustead's "Rose and Elza," Ellis' "Fayette County," "Doddridge's Not< 
uck's "Local Sketches," "The old and New Monongahela," "Glimpses 
ioneer Life," and many other books have been consulted or quoted freely. 
In conclusion let us say we have tried to serve this little historic repast 
lose brought together by Miss Galley for the real purpose of the book, v 
s much skill and variety in preparation as our limited time and larder wc 
dmit. W'e have realized that our guests are of all ages, and from all p; 

tf the country, and therefore of widely varying api)etites and tastes. 
It is our desire that each one shall get something to his liking, though 
■lay not partake of the wdiole menu. There are always some in so larg 
athcring. with pronounced indigestion; these must be careful, much of 
ire is light, and we trust it will not hurt them; if perchance one has cc 
dth no appetite at all, he may at least enjoy the flowers. 

Thanking you one and all for having had the honor to serve you evei 
small a way, and bidding you thrice welcome to whatever of enjoyrr 
r of help you may receive at our hands, we are yours for the glory and g 
ame of our ancestors. 



J. O. ARNOLD. M. D. 



503 X. ISth St., Philadelphia. 
June 20, 1908. 




IPart I 



jFatnil\? IFMstov 





bd 



PETER GALLEY married Sophia Sterne in Lancaster County, 
iPa., about the year 1773. 

ISSUE. 

Born Died 

2 Philip 1775 8. 31. 1852 

3 Daughter In infancy 

2 Philip Galley married Magdalena Newcomer, who was born 
Jan. 26, 1774. Died Aug. 24, 1851. 



Born Died 

4 Peter Galley 1. 10. 1798 5. 10. 1865 

6 Catherine Galley 12. 16. 1799 1888 

6 John Galley 4. 18. 1801 ]. 6. 1888 

7 Jacob Galley 4. 4. 1803 11. 10. 1829 

8 David Galley 5. 9. 1805 2. 20. 1876 

9 Elizabeth Galley 10. 3. 1807 8. 4. 1858 

10 Samuel Galley 12. 23. 1809 12. 9. 1809 

11 Jonathan Galley 2. 26. 1812 1. 10. 1900 
jl2 Barbara Galley 2. 14. 1814 4. 15. 1891 

13 Abraham Galley 9. 28. 1816 11. 6. 1893 

14 Henry Galley 6. 12. 1819 12. 2. 1895 

I The History of the Galley Family in America begins with Peter 
Galley, who emigrated to America from Germany about the year 
'1 770 and settled in Lancaster County, Pa. Here he met and married 
Sophia Sterne about the year 1773 or 1774. To them were born two 
children — a son and a daughter. The daughter died in infancy, and 
the son, named Philip, was the only child of that marriage. 

Peter Galley died soon after, and his son, -Philip, was taken 
charge of by his uncle, Philip Sterne, to whom he was afterwards 
bound until he became of age. 

Philip Sterne was a citizen of Donegal township, Lancaster Co., 
Pa., and was engaged in the farming and nursery business. He was 
a successful business man and raised the said Philip Galley to indus- 
try, sobriety and honesty. Sophia, the mother of the said Philip Gal- 
ley, afterwards married a man named Auckerman — a Hessian — and to 
them were born one son and five daughters. They moved to what 
was then called "the West" and settled in Tyrone township, Fayette 
Co., Pa. 

I Philip Galley, while living with his uncle, Philip Sterne, learned 
the weaving trade and grafting of fruit trees, as well as farming. 
After he became of age, he married Magdalena Newcomer, daughter 
of Peter and Catharine Newcomer, of Lancaster Co., Pa. After his 
marriage Philip Galley and wife moved to Frederick Co., Maryland. 
In the course of two or three years, they moved to "the West" and 

13 



settled in Tyrone township. Fayette Co., Pa., where numbers of Lan- 
caster County people had settled, among them the Newcomers, Strick- 
lers. StaufFers and others. 

The Broad Ford and Mt. Pleasant R. R. now runs through the 
farm that Philip Galley bought, and Morgan Station is on a part of 
the farm. 

Philip Galley was born about the year 1775 and died August 31, 
1852. His wife, Magdalena Newcomer Galley, was born January 26, 
1774. Died August 24. 1851. 

Philip Galley and Magdalena, his wife, after their marriage, as 
before stated, lived in Frederick Co., Maryland, and their first child, 
Peter, was born in that State. They moved across the mountains 
to Fayette Co., Pa., about the year 1798 or 1799 and bought a part of 
the Henry Newcomer farm in Tyrone township. They remained on 
that farm 22 years. It was here that ten of the eleven above named 
children were born. During these 22 years he carried on the farm- 
ing and nursery business, was prosperous and soon had money enough 
not only to pay for the farm he settled upon, but about the year 1816 
bought the farm on which the writer now lives, from Joseph Huston, 
who was, prior to that time, engaged in the iron and banking business. ! 
The farm contained about 300 acres and was bought and paid 
for with a depreciated currency then known as Connellsville, Perry- j 
opolis and Muttontown bank paper. 

These banks had failed, and as the said Huston was a stockholder i 
in these banks, he took that kind of money off my father's hands in | 
exchange for the farm before mentioned, and upon which he moved j 
with his family in the year 1821. Peter then being married, bought 
the old homestead farm in Tyrone township and remained upon it 
while he lived. My father continued to carry on the nursery business 
on the river bottom lands, and being strong-handed, pushed his farm- 
ing and grafting business so that money came into his hands quite 
rapidly for the time in which he lived. As an evidence of this fact, it 
is well known that he bought a farm for each of his sons, and all of 
his children were left in good homes. After living some thirty years 
on the river bottom, and at the ripe age of 77 years, father and mother 
died, and their remains now rest in the cemetery grounds on the hill. 
(The cemetery grounds, and monument are illustrated on opposite 
j)age.) The farm having been divided between Abraham and the 
writer hereof, is still in our hands. I have thus written a brief history 
of Philip Galley and his descendants from the best information I have 
b«en able to gather. 

As will be seen, I have no definite data as to the year Peter Gal- 
ley emigrated to America, nor do I remember the part from which he 
came, but this I do know — that my father learned that his father left 

14 



a home and kindred and came to America to join in with a people that 
were struggling to extricate themselves from the oppression of Mon- 
archy. Neither have I any definite data of the marriage of father and 
mother, but from the best evidence I could gather, it was about the 
y^ear 1797. On my mother's side, Peter Newcomer was married to 
Catherine Good. The Goods are a numerous family, and were early 
'settlers in the region of Lancaster Co., Pa., and along the Juniata 
iRiver. David Good, who was a cousin to my mother, came out to 
this country some time before my father moved from his Tyrone farm. 




He was a coverlet weaver by trade. My brother Jacob learned the 
trade from him and followed it up to the time he was killed. David 
Good afterwards settled in Huntington Co. and carried on an iron 
furnace. His descendants still live in that region. Having thus traced 
the Galley ancestry as best I could, I will close the history by giving 
the place and residence of each of my brothers and sisters: Peter 
lived and died on the old homestead in Tyrone township. Catherine 
Galley Smith lived and died in Connellsville township. John Galley 
is in his eighty-seventh year, and lives on Dickerson Run, Dunbar 

15 



township. Jacob Galley lived on a farm adjoining Peter Galley's place 
now called Upper Tyrone township. David Galley lived and died ii 
what is now called Lower Tyrone township. Elizabeth Galle; 
Oglevee lived and died in the vicinity of Vanderbilt, Dunbar town 
ship. Samuel Galley first located on a farm in North Union township 
afterwards moved to Illinois, and is now living in Nebraska. Jona 
than Galley moved on a farm in German township, and has remaine( 
there up to this time. Barbara Galley Snyder first moved to a farn 
in what is known as the "Forks," Westmoreland Co., Pa., afterward 
to the Rankin farm in Franklin township, and is now living on a farm 
part of which once belonged to Farrington Oglevee. Abraham Galle; 
lives on the upland of the old homestead, and the writer lives in thi 
old mansion house on the river bottom. 

This history is now so far written this eighteenth day of May 
A. D. one thousand eight hundred eighty-seven by 

HENRY GALLEY. 




PENNSYLVMsTA STATE LIBRi\RY 
DI\lSION OF PUBLIC RECORDS 



HON SAMIJEL ■W PENNYHACKER 

PHBSTOENT 

HON THOMAS L MONTGOKEHV STATE LIBBAHIAN 

SEORKTARV JXNI) TBaASI!BKR 

LUTHER H KELKEH 

rUHTODLOT 

ilu<ri.sbi;rg penns\i:\'anlv usa 

July 31, ]907. 



TO WKOU rr UAY CCtiCEFK: 

I hereby Certify that the rajue of PKTER GAIXEY appeara es that of a Privet* or. t 
Alj*at«tlc«il List of Nor-Coarassioned Officers ard Privates of the S«cond Pennsylranl 
Coctifier.tal Line. Walter Stoxart, Colonel. Compar-y Connrander not etated. 

See p. 872, Vclujne Two, PenriBylvania Archives, Fifth Serir.8. 



^ 



Ie teetltxny wt.ereof 
I hereby affix the Seal 
of tkli D«par*-r»rt. 



Custodiar. Public Records, 
Pennsylvania State Ubrory. 



16 




PETER GALLEY. 



^Peter Galley, at the age of 21, married (ist) Nancy, daughter c 
Henry Strickler, Dec. 9, 1819. 



15 Frances Galley 

16 Martha Galley 

17 William Galley 

18 ALary Galley 

19 Henry Galley 

20 Klizabeth Galley 



ISSUE. 

Born 

10. 22. 1820 

4. 10. 1822 

2. 23. 1824 

8. 9. 182.5 

4. 28. 1827 

10. C^. 1828 





Died 


2 


4. 


1894 


11. 


20. 


1905 


6. 


14. 


1882 


3. 


22. 


1870 


12. 


24. 


1905 


5. 


4. 


1852 



Nancy died in 1830, at the age of 33 years. 
Peter Galley married (2d) Frances Sherrick Galley. 









Born 


21 


Anna ("lalli-v 


6. 


16. 


18;{1 


22 


Sarali GalU'v 


9. 


20. 


1832 


23 


Iliram Gallcj- 


4. 


4. 


1834 


24 


Philip Galley 


4. 


10. 


1835 


25 


Cyrus Galloy 


11. 


29. 


1836 


26 


Susanna Galley 


10. 


27. 


1838 


27 


Catlierine Galley 


3. 


■27. 


1S4() 


28 


John Galley 


7. 


12 


1S4:.' 


29 


Joannah Gallev 


1. 


G. 


184.5 


30 


Malinda Galley 


1 1. 


11. 


1846 


31 


Maria Gallev 


11. 


4. 


1848 



ISSUE. 

Died 
12. 14. 1886 

9. 6. 1834 
12. 25. 1865 

1. 19. 1883 

2. 26. 1S56 
8. 3. 1901 
1. 24. 1902 
6. 1866 

Frances Sherrick Galley died Aug. 6, 1849, aged 45. 

Peter Galley married (3d) Susan Stauffer, a widow, January 22, 
1852, who outlived him 

'Peter Galley, oldest son of Philip and Magdalena Newcomer 
Galley, was born at Hagerstown, Maryland, Jan. 10, 17^8. His father 
removed with his family to Fayette Co., Pa., when Peter was nine 
months old, or about the first of October, 1798. 

He bought a farm of loo^^ acres from Andrew Shallenberger, 
May 4. 1799. This farm was located about a mile north of the Yough- 
iogheny River, on the Broad Ford Run, where the Morgan coke 
works are now located. Here he conducted a nursery and farming 
business for 22 years, as elsewhere stated, and then sold the farm to 
his oldest son, Peter, the subject of this sketch. 

Peter Galley, at the age of 21, or in the year 1819, married Nancy, 
daughter of Henry Strickler. She bore him six children, and died 
1830, aged 33 years. Peter subsequently married Frances Sherrick 
Galley, widow of his brother Jacob. To them were born eleven chil- 
dren. Frences Sherrick Galley died in 1849, at the age of 45, and 
Peter then married Susan Stauffer, who outlived him. Of the seven- 
teen children born to Peter Galley, but three survive at this writing 
(Dec, 1906), namely. Sarah, Joannah and Marie, two of whom live in 
Denver and one in Berthoud, Colorado. 

Peter Galley was a man of intelligence and good judgment. He 
had only a common school education, but was a reader, especially of 
the newspapers, and kept up with his times. He regretted the fact 
that he had not secured a more liberal education, and tried to give his 
children a chance to go to school, saying that an education was the 
best fortune he could leave them. He was a just man and desired to 
treat his children all alike. On this account he kept a book account 
of all moneys and goods supplied to each child at marriage and of all 
moneys advanced to any who chose to attend school, other than the 






public school, these sums to be deducted out of each child's share in 
the final distribution of his estate. 

In addition to farming his acres, he carried on a saw-mill business 
for many years and was fairly successful in business, rearing his large 
family in comfort and in accordance with the best standards of his 
time and community. In politics he was a Democrat and in religion 




i 




^:.A 






:Kr 



SITE OF ORIGINAL HOME OF PHILIP GALLEY, AND LATER OI* HIS 

OLDEST SON, PETER. 

X About where house and barn stood. 



a Protestant — a member of the Christian or Disciple Church.* Though 
he suffered a slight stroke of paralysis a few years before his death, he 
was never sick in bed in his life until his last sickness. He died of 
typhoid fever on May lo, 1865, at the age of 67 years and five months. 



* The Bethel Congregation of Disciples, or Bethel Christian Church, was organ- 
ized in May, 1845, with thirty members. Jacob Newmyer, Peter Galley and John 
Taylor were elected Elders, and Nathan Reece and Jacob Newcomer Deacons. 

19 





Died 


5. 


11. 1881 


10. 


9. 1S50 


:5. 


9. 1871 


1. 


2(\. 1904 



'•'Frances Galley married Cyrus Duncan Robison Feb. 21, 1839. 

ISSUE. 

Boni 

B2 Am/i Rol)ison 11. 6. is:!9 

J3 John R. Robison 7. 5. 1841 

34 Sniilli R. R(.I»i>un 4. 27. 1S44 

J5 William R<>l)is(.n 11. 8. 1847 

J6 Sabina Robison 10. 27. 1849 

B7 Marv E. Robison 9. 29. 18.}1 

38 Martlia V. Rol)ison :?. 4. 18G-J 

•''■'John Robison married Frances Watson Mar. 5, 1885. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

39 Rhoda Robison 1. 3. 1886 

•■^'William Robison married Mary Cooper May 9, 1880. 

ISSUE. 

Born Died 

40 .MaKK'ie Robi.>^on 2. 20. 1883 

41 Grace Robison 7. 30. 1888 

42 Ruth Robison 6. l.">. 189.-) 

^'■Sabina Robison married Vance Cyrus Gilmore Oct, 12, 1869. 
Vance Cyrus Gilmore died Feb. 11, 1905. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

43 Ura Eugene Gilmore 8. 20. 1S70 

Ora Eugene Gilmore married Maude E. Postelewaite Feb. i, 
1893. 

Mary E. Robison married Robert P. Brashear Sep. 7. 1875. 
Robert P. Brashear died Aug. 12, 1884. 

ISSUE. 

I'l ( If 1 1 

44 I'ranccs Braslic.tr (>. 12. ls7r) 

45 k..b.it Sp<-.k I'.r.i-hc.ir 7. 31. 1S79 

^'Frances Brashear married William McCray Porter Aug. 8, 1898. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

46 .M.ii\ .Mark'.irtl Louise I'orter 0. 12. 1900 

20 



■■'''Martha F. Robison married James H. Cole, 1882. 

ISSUE. 

I 'x ini 

47 Mary II. Cole 4. Id. 1883 

48 Wilfiain Cyrus Cole 6. 22. 1885 

49 LoiiKi Catherine Cole 9. :iO. 1890 

^'Mary H. Cole married J. W. Gobright Dec. 21, 1904. 
'' Martha Galley married John Newcomer Dec. 14, 1841. 

ISSUE. 
Iluni Died 

50 Smith Newcomer 5. 14. 1843 4. 6. 1903 

51 J. D. Newcomer 1. 18. 1845 

52 U. D. Newcomer 3. 7. 1847 

53 Gen. \V. Newcomer 11. 17. 1848 

54 Clark Newcomer 10. 9. 1850 

55 Scott Newcomer 4. 15. 1852 

56 Nancy Ann Newcomer 1. 29. 1855 

57 Frank B. Newcomer 1. 2(5. 1857 10. 19. 1896 

58 William H. Newcomer 3. 19. 1859 

59 Charles A. Newcomer 3. 19. 1863 

^''"Smith Newcomer married Lou Farley. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

60 Harry K Newcomer 6. 2. 1870 

^^'Harry K. Newcomer married (ist) Dessie May Portrude Jur 
24, 1900. Dessie May Portrude died May 5, 1901. 

ISSUE 

Born 

61 Dorothy May Newcomer 4. 10. 1901 

Harry K. Newcomer married (2d) Mabel Janet Crusinben 
June 2, 1906. 

•"'^J. D. Newcomer married Caroline A. Stoddard Nov. 19, 1872. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

62 Carl S. Newcomer 4. 7. 1878 

63 Jay S. Newcomer 12. 27. 1879 

^-Carl S. Newcomer married Mabel Brewer May 12, 1892. 

ISSUE. 
Born Died 

64 Carl Brewer Newcomer 1. 5. 1904 6. 19. 1904 

21 



■''-U. D. Newcomer married Elizabeth Parker Apr. i8, 1871. 

ISSUE. 

Horn 

65 Minnie .May Newcomer 1. Ki. 1S72 

66 l-:rncst Ruel Newcomer 3. 29. 1873 

"•'Ernest Ruel Newcomer married Nettie Van Dike Sep. 2, 1903. 
•'■Geo. W. Newcomer married Laura E. Johnson Oct. 24, 1878. 

ISSUE. 

I lorn Died 

67 Bertha L. Newcomer 7. 27. 1879 

68 P.erton J. Newcomer 1. 1. 1881 4. 17. 1889 

69 Grace Lee Newcomer 12. 6. 1884 

70 John l':arl Xewcnmer 6. 8. 1886 4. 19. 1889 

71 Pauline K. .Newcomer 5. 18. 1890 

'•'Bertha L. Newcomer married Harry J. Pike June 9, 1898. 

ISSUE. 
l)Orn 

72 iliKn Dale Pike 3. 1."). 1899 

73 Velma Ruth Pike .'). 0. 1901 

74 (ko. Richard Pike 9. 18. 1903 

•"'•'Grace Lee Newcomer married Geo. Milton Young Apr. 21, 1906. 

NO ISSUE. 

•''^Clark Newcomer married Ida Rush June 27, 1877. 

NO ISSUE. 

''•''Scott Newcomer married Ida A. Bogus Nov. 29, 1882. 

ISSUE. 

P)Orn 

75 Roy Newcomer 12. 15. 1885 

^"Nancy Ann Newcomer married C. A. Younkin Oct. 27, 1873. 

ISSUE. 

i'.<.rn 

76 Marcu.s W. Younkin 10. :'., is74 

77 Loyd .'\. Younkin 5. 9. 1SS4 

78 I'rank P.. Younkin 5. 9. 1884 

"'•Marcus W. Younkin married Azzie Adams Dec, 1895. 

NO ISSUE. 



""Frank B. Younkin married Ella Cain May 22, 1906. 
■'"'"Frank B. Newcomer married Nellie Gearhart Jan. i, 1890. 

ISSUE. 

I'.orn Died 

79 Anna W-wcMDcr 4. 26. 1892 5. 15. 1894 

•"''■William H. Newcomer married Charlotte Bloodgood June 
1885. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

80 k(.K<.r 1!. Xewcomcr 5. 8. 1886 

81 Olive -M Xewcomcr 3. 15. 1890 

82 Joliii A. Xewcomer 8. 5. 1892 

''''Charles A. Newcomer married Laura E. Thompson Oct. 
1887. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

83 Mildred Xewcomer 8. 28. 1888 
48 Madge Newcomer 3. 6. 1895 

(Twins ) 

85 Majorie Xewcomer 3. 6. 1895 

86 Herbert Xewcomer 8. 21. 1896 

'"William Galley married (ist) Mary Ann Hill Mar. 23, 1858. 

ISSUE. 

Horn 

87 Charles Peter Galley 2. 9. 1859 

88 Roberta H. (ialley (Died in infancy) 

William Galley married (2d) Pluma Coburn. 

ISSUE. 

pjorn 

89 Kmma Frances Galley 12. 20. 1863 

90 William Wallace Galley 3. 7. 1865 

91 Martha Verona Galley 5. 6. 1869 

"'Charles Peter Galley married Elfleeda Childs Feb. 2, 1888. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

92 Pester Galley 12. 12. 1888 

93 llollis Galley 7. 8. 1891 

94 .Marv Gallcv 2. IS. 1896 

95 Cyrus Abel Galley 7. 4. 1902 

23 





Born 


11. 


22 


1843 


3. 


23. 


1845 


11. 


14. 


1847 


2. 


11. 


1852 


1. 


5. 


1854 


9. 


22. 


1857 


7. 


15. 


1859 


12. 


25. 


1862 


3. 


16. 


1867 


11. 


8. 


1869 



''■'Emma Frances Galley married Hugh H. Howard Dec. 5, 1885. 
•"'William Wallace Galley married Minnie Wendler Oct. 13, 1886. 

ISSUE. 

96 Esther Gallov 

97 l'.;il)y (kiIIov 

'•"Martha Verona Galley married Rev. H. F. Reed June 23, 1905. 
'""Mary Galley married William W. Beam May 12, 1842. 

ISSUE. 

Died 

98 IMiilip G. Beam 

99 .\larv E. Beam 

100 William C. Beam 11. 14. 1847 1861 

101 Martha L. Beam 2. 11. 1852 1854 

102 Anil Eliza Beam 1. 5. 1854 1868 

103 I oh 11 C. Beam 

104 'Willis P. Beam 

105 Xancy B. Beam 12. 25. 1862 . 1864 

106 Jennie P. Beam 

107 joannah G. I'.eam 

''"^Philip G. Beam married Mattie Wray Sep. 17, 1870. 

ISSUE. 

108 Walter I'.eam 

109 Thomas P. Beam 

110 Clark C. Beam 

111 Kate A. Beam 

112 llarrv O. Beam 

113 ' )rvifle W'. Beam 

114 Mabel B. Beam 

115 j.ihn W. P.eam 

"■•'Mary E. Beam married Josiah Wible Nov. 10, 1863. 

ISSUE. 

Born Died 

116 Kate Aleida Wible 11. 22. 1864 

117 Minnie Mav Wible 5. 25. 1866 

118 i.aura Ida W il)le 12. 30. 1868 

119 .Martha Elenor Wible 3. 12. 1871 1872 

120 Cora Jane Wible 3. 26. 1873 1873 

121 .Mary hllizabeth Wible 12. 11. 1S74 1896 

122 Sarah .\nn W'il)le 6. 18. 1876 1876 

123 C.eorKe W inlield Wible 12. 10. 1877 

124 E nice Kin^ Wible 8. 11. 1880 

24 





Born 


6. 


19. 


1871 


1 1. 


1 . 


1873 


y. 


4. 


1876 


2 


4. 


1878 


10. 


4. 


1881 


3. 


10. 


1883 


10. 


20. 


1885 


4. 


9. 


1889 



^'"Kate Aleida Wible married Robert Duke Sep. 24, 1885. 

ISSUE. 
Burn Died 

125 Anluir Duke 3. 16. 1887 

126 Clark Duko 11. 24. 1889 1893 

127 luinicc Duke V2. 2. 1890 

128 RohiTl Duke 5. 5. 1895 

129 Earl Duke 6 1897 

130 .Mary Duke 12. 1899 1900 

131 ICva Duko 4. 25. 1903 

(Twins) 

132 Edith Duke 4. 25. 1903 

""Minnie May Wible married (ist) Theodore C. Ament Sep. 
1884. 

ISSUE. 

Born Died 

133 Carl .\ment 1. 11. 188G 

134 Everette F. .\mcnt 2. .">. 1888 11. 1. 1888 

135 .\ltred Anient 7. 30. 1890 

Minnie May Wible married (2d) Mr. Buckingham. 

""^Laura Ida Wible married Edward Wright Oct. i, 1891. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

136 Glen Wright 2. 5. 1892 

137 Flossie Wright 9. 8. 1898 

'"^Willis P. Beam married Lizzie McGinnis Nov. 23, 1879. 

ISSUE. 
Born 

138 -Ma3me Beam 1. 15. 1881 

^ ''"Mayme Beam married John Walton Rowan June 20, igoo. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

139 Rul)y \'ivian Rowan 7. 2. 1901 

140 Roy Willis Rowan 11. 5. 1904 

141 Walter .Arthur Rowan 8. 24. 1906 

""Jennie P. Beam married Anson M. Castle Dec. 19, 1888. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

142 joannah Irene Castle 12. 23. 1889 

143 Clu>ter Beam Castle 7. 23. 1891 

144 Ethel May Castle 8. 6. 1895 

25 



'"'Joannah G. Beam married Mr. Stroup. 

ISSUE. 

145 jiiinii.- Stroup 

146 I'ili^aiuli.T Stroup 

147 Baby Stroup 

'•'Henry Galley married Helena Powell Feb. 7, i860. 

ISSUE. 

Boin 

148 Alhirt W. C.allcy 12. 25. 1860 

149 William K. ('.alley 8. 12. 1865 

150 Joseph H. Galley 6. 30. 1877 

'^•'William E. Galley married Abbie Bowlby Sep. 8, 1898. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

151 Henry Bowlby Galley 2. 25. 1902 

'-"'Elizabeth Galley married Samuel McFadden Aug. 10, 1847. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

152 Mary Hllen .Mc]'"aclclen 12. 6. 1848 

153 Nancy Jane McKaddcn 2. 2. 1852 

154 Joseph C. McFadden •{. 18. 18.50 

'•'■-'Mary Ellen McFadden married B. F. Wible Apr. 21, 1870. 

ISSUE. 
135 i:tta Wibic 

156 Sauuui Wible 

157 l<la Belle Wible 

'•' 'Nancy McFadden married J. W. Whitefield Aug. 26, 1873, 

ISSUE. 

Born 

158 Belle Zura Whitelield .!. 15. 1870 

159 Joseph Clark Whitelield 1. 21. 1S78 

160 Rrda-rt Sylvester Whitelieitl :.'. HI. ISHI! 

161 Chas. Raymond Whitelield 10. 16. 1881) 

162 W'm. LiviuKston Whitelield 5. 27. 1892 

'^^-Bellc Zora Whitefield married J. B. Taylor Mar. 22, 1897. 

NO ISSUE. 
26 



I 

'•'"'''Joseph Clark Whitefield married Lou Alice Shelby Dec. 24 
1902. 



ISSUE. 

Hum 

163 Vcr;i May W liitcficUl 4. :?0. 1904 

I 

I "'"Robert Sylvester Whitefield married Alice Thompson Oct. i^ 

! 1905. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

164 Mildred Lucille Whitelicld 7. o. l'H)6 

I'^^Joseph C. McFadden married Caroline Chicken Dec. 11, 1873. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

165 Olive Lavona McFadden 11. 2(>. 1874 

166 Henry Everette McFadden 4. 9. 1877 
! 167 Holmes L. McFadden 7. 10. 1886 

i**01ive Lavona McFadden married J. B. Little Apr. 24, 1901. 

ISSUE. 1 

Born 

; 168 Coral Dorothy Little 4. .V 1902 

! 169 Robert Lowell Little 8. 13. 1903 

i^<'Henry Everette McFadden married Nellie Wayland Oct. 
igo6. 

21 Anne Galley married (ist) Johnson Robison, 1850. Johnsc 
Robison died Nov., 1852. 

ISSUE. 
Pxirn 

170 Alexander Robison V2. 2(i. 1851 

Anna Galley married (2d) Rev. S. B. Teagarden Sep. 11, 1856 

ISSUE. 

Born 

171 Flora Teagarden 1857 

172 Rosella Teagarden 1859 

173 Elmer Jay Teagarden 1861 

174 Willard Teagarden 1865 

^""Alexander Robison married Anna McCracken Oct., 1873. 

NO ISSUE. 



'•'Flora Teagarden married Mr. Tucker, 1886. 

ISSUE. 

liorii 

175 Lcc Ri>v Tucker 11. 1888 

176 Ralph tuckiT 1. 1891 

177 Ko(liu-y Tucker 11. 1894 

'"■-■Rosella Teagarden married L. L. Breeze May 18, 1891. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

178 Leon Breeze -'. 27. 1892 

^"•■'Elmer Jay Teagarden married Anna Morris, 1892. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

179 Lvrel TeaRarden 4. 1S94 

180 Eimcr Teagarden 8. 1900 

'"'Willard Teagarden married Rachel McCracken Mar., 1903. 

ISSUE. 

1 ') I ) r 11 

181 Wallace Teagarden ]ii. I'JOO 

--'Sarah Galley married Joseph Rist Nov. 5, 1854. 

ISSUE. 

]>orn Died 

182 Lyman (Galley Rist 3. 21. 1872 11. 12. ]875 

-'Philip Galley married (ist) Mary Hughs, 1859. Mary Hughs 
died Apr. 10, 1862. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

183 William II. Galley :.. isdo 

184 Daughter (ialley (Died in infancy) 

Philip Galley married (2d) Lizzie Guttery. 

ISSUE. 

185 Charles Galley (Died in infancy) 

'"William H. Galley married Jennie Corson. 

NO ISSUE. 
28 



-'•'Cyrus Galley married Harriet Clark Apr. 12, i860. ] 

ISSUE. I 

Born 

186 Ca-siu-- Markcl CaWw 1. 8. IHfil 

187 William Clark Galley' 8 :.'(). ISii'J 

188 F.lincr Tcagardcn Galley 4. Hi. ISdC) 

189 Onin Clark Galley '.>. 11. 18()7 

190 Geortre Clark Galley 7. 6. 1ST 1 

i'^*'Cassius Markel Galley married Ida Roadman Feb. 18, 1884. 

ISSUE. 

ImUMI 

191 Anna May Galley 1. 3. 1881) 

192 Blanch Margaret Galley 1888 

1^' William Clark Galley married Luetta Speakman Nov. 12, 1882 

ISSUE. 
Born Died 

193 llan-ielt Emeline Galley 3. 17. 1884 
I 194 Thoma.s Speakman (Galley 4. 1. 1880 
I 195 Rachel Clark Galley 4. -^9. 1888 

196 Florence Galley 4. 27. 1890 8. 26. 1891 

197 Lawrence Galley 5 If). 1894 

198 Esther Galley 5. :n. 1896 

199 Geo. Dewey Galley 5. 9. 1898 

I'-'-'Harriet Emeline Galley married Frank Perkey, 1905. 

NO ISSUE. 

^^■''Elmer Teagarden Galley married (ist) Mary Overholt, 1894. 

ISSUE. 

200 Harriett Belle Galley 

201 Harry Qycrholt Galley 

Elmer Teagarden Galley married (2d) Alice Bond, 1900. 

ISSUE. 

202 Cyru.s Galley 

203 Katherine Elizabeth Galley 

^^■'Orrin Clark Galley married Jennie M. Landis Apr. 9, 1891. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

204 Sarah Elenor Galley :5. 21. 1892 

205 Joseph Xorris Galley :J. 17. 189.5 

206 Mary Elizabeth Galley 10. 6. 1897 

29 



207 Eveline Clark Gallcv 2. 28. 1900 

208 Hokn I.andis Gallcv 12. 5. 1901 

209 lU-rtha IJrackon Galley 6. 26. 1904 

210 Alice Galley (Qead) 

211 Mariiaret Galley 11. 28. 1907 

t 

'••"Geo. C. Galley married Hettie Brothers, 1894. 

ISSUE. 

212 Cleora Galley 

213 Jolin Merle (".alley 

■-'•Catherine Galley married (ist) George Washabough May 8, 
1859. George Washabough died Apr. 11, 1886. 

ISSUE. 

Bom 

214 Sally \\"a>lial)ou^ih 12. 10. 1860 

Catharine Galley married (2d) James Beatty Jan. 16, 1890. 
'"Sallie Washabough married James Flenniken. 

ISSUE. 

215 George E. Flenniken 

216 James Halfton I-'knniken 

217 Clifton W. Flenniken 

'-''■''Geo. E. Flenniken married 



ISSUE. 

218 r..il)y l-"lenniken 

'"■John Galley married Mary Blackmore Oct. 24, 1865. 

ISSUE. 

Born Died 

219 Anna F. Galley 12. ;{(). 1866 4. 29. 1900 

220 William B. Galley 2. ■>. 1S69 

221 C. Norman Galley 3. 10. 1871 12. 1879 

222 Lorctta E. Galley 6. 29. 1873 

223 Sarah B. Galley .3. 8. 1876 

224 Mary F. Galley 8. 5. ]S78 

225 .\ellie M. Galley 5. 13. 1881 

226 i'.dna K. Galley 2. 28. 1884 

227 John C. Galley 3. 8. 1887 

*' 'Anna F. Galley married D. C. Chamberlain June 10, 1892. 

ISSUE. 

228 .Mary lldna Galley 

229 l-I«)rence r,;illcy 

230 J. .Ill) 11 G.illey 

30 



""William B. Galley married Luella L. Johnson Dec. 26, 1901, 

NO ISSUE. 

22'Loretta E. Galley married J. F. Zimmerman Dec. 5, 1895. 

ISSUE. 

231 Earl I-"raiicc> Ziniincrman 

232 Olive Mary Zimmerman 

^-•'Sarah B. Galley married D. T. Bleubough May 9, 1900. 

ISSUE. 

233 Ralph David Bleubough 

2'^Mary E. Galley married W. W. Wilson May 11, 1904. 

ISSUE. 

234 Julin Alfred Wilson 

"•''Nellie M. Galley married David Higbee June 5, 1902. 

ISSUE. ■': ..^- 

235 Dorothy Higbee / ■^" 

"'••Joannah Galley married Dr. L. S. Brown Dec. 24, 1868. 

NO ISSUE. 

'^Maria Galley married William Lyon Nov. 2, 1871. 

ISSUE. 

Born Died 

236 Frances E. Lyon 12. 8. 1872 

237 Marv Lyon 2. IG. 1874 11. 2. 1870 

238 Frank H. Lyon 3. 20. 1876 3. 14. 1882 

239 George E. Lyon 2. 17. 1878 10. 2. 1882 

240 C. Carl Lyon 12. 29. 1879 

241 James G. Lyon 9. 21. 1881 

242 John W. Lyon 9. 7. 1884 

243 Lizzie B. Lyon 2. 4. 1888 

^•''''Frances E. Lyon married Geo. W. Eckles Nov. 29, 1900. 

NO ISSUE. 

2'*^C. Carl Lyon married Ruth Austermell Nov. 24, 1903. 

NO ISSUE. 

'^^John W. Lyon married Inez Morgan Dec, 29, 1906. 

NO ISSUE. 

31 




CATHERINE GALLEY SMITH. 



■'Catherine Galley married Jacob Smith Apr. 9, 1820. Jacob Smith 
born Dec. 21, 1796. 

ISSUE. 









Jioni 




Died 


244 


.\l)rali;im Sniitli 


2. 


25. 


1821 


4. 


27. 


1881 


245 


llciiry Siiiitli 


0. 




1 8'?2 


4. 


2a. 


1 <)();? 


246 


M.irtlia Sintili 


;> 


14. 


1824 


it. 


8. 


IS 00 


247 


l-.li/:i Siiiilli 


1:.'. 


;> 


182-) 


■ >. 


10. 


1S>I4 


248 


Joliii Smith 


."S. 


10. 


1827 


J. 


20. 


1S4'J 


249 


Ii)><i|)li Smith 


4. 


28. 


]s:u) 








250 


S.imml Smiili 


11. 


20. 


18:51 


7. 


17. 


1832 


251 


jciiialli.iii Smith 


1:.'. 


•27 


ih:{;{ 


5. 


21). 


18,50 


252 


li-s-x- Smilli 


I, 


0. 


is;!o 


."). 


12. 


is;)4 


253 


l'hili|< Smitli 


.». 


rio. 


1838 








254 


.\Liry Smith 


4. 


4 


1842 









3J 



Catherine, the oldest daughter of Philip and Magdalena Galley, was born 
!\ar Broad Ford, Tyrone Township, Fayette Co., Pa., Dec. 16, 1799. We find 
is little Catherine was brought up and taught very differently from the girl 
to-day. Her education, which was limited to a few short months in child- 
)od, was obtained in a country school house some distance from her home, 
his school house was built of logs. Inside the entrance was the master's 
:sk. Against the three remaining sides were sloping shelves about three feet 
om the floor. A shelf below this kept the pupils' books and other belongings 
hen not in use. Long backless benches of slabs accompanied these desks, and 
e pupil sat facing the wall. In the centre of the room was a limited open 
lace where the pupils stood while reciting. At this time they were expected 
"toe the crack," a particular crnck in the floor chosen to keep them in line. 

The teacher was generally young and if he could read the Bible and pro- 
)unce all hard names, was expert at figures, had character enough to assert 
s authority, and strength of arm to maintain it, he would do. The lesson 
ost of all to be impressed on the pupil was obedience. In most of the old 
stricts the teachers were often ignorant and sometimes bruthl. 

The means the average schoolmasler employed to discipline his pupils was 
ruler and what was called the "heavy gad;" in other words, 5 feet of elastic 
pling. The;e two implements were applied with force and frequency, the 
rls and older ones receiving their share of chastisement as well as the younger 
les. The average salary paid was ten or twelve dollars a month. The 
acher board: d among the pupils, staying the longest at the homes where the 
ost children were sent to school. Such v/as the school Catherine attended, 
'owever, amid all thtce disadvantages, and the short time she attended school, 
le was able to read and .5peak both the English and German language. An 
ucation for girls wis not thought necessary in those days, and children as 
on as old enough were taught to work. So we not only find Catherine as- 
;ting with the house work, such as baking, cooking and sweeping, but also 
:lping outside to pull, skutch and hackle flax, a striking contrast to the girls 
to-day who learn music, painting and fancy work, and for outdoor work play 
nnis and golf. 

, Like Priscilla of old, Catherine was ever busy at her spmmng wheel, and 

•re Jacob Smith came a wooing. April 9, 1820, they were married and shortly 

ter moved to a farm about one mile from Connellsville, Pa., where they lived 

I their lives. In her own hom.e as in her father's, Catherine was industrious — 

l;ver idle a moment, and her children were early taught lessons of industry 

iid truth. For many years after their marriage the German language was 

loken in their home, and she m.uch preferred to read her "Dutch" Bib'e. She 

iid a kind and loving disposition and was very charitable to the poor. No one 

'as ever turned away from her door no matter how ragged or poor. She was 

Ived and respected, not only by her children, but by a host of friends and 

tlatives. For many years she and her husband were members of the Men- 

iiite Church— a little brick church that stood one mile from the present town 

< Pennsville. She died April 3, 1880, and her husband died and 

ley were buried in the little graveyard close to the church they loved so well. 



"3 




Tin-; CATiii%Ri-\i-; galley smith homestead. 

'^^Abraham Smith married Jemima Roberts Jan. 13, 1852. 

ISSUE. 

255 (.'allKriiitj Smilli ( Dead J 

256 l-'.liza Smitli (Dead) 
£57 Miriam Siuilli 

258 (".lorK*.- \\ . Sinilli 

259 Martin L. Smitli 

260 John Smitli ( Dead) 

261 riiilip Smitii ( Dead) 



'•'■'•Eliza Smith married Mr. Wheeler 

ISSUE. 

262 W'iiini.- Wluckr 

263 I'iariiicc \\ luek-r 

264 fharky WhtcU-r 

34 



-"'Miriam Smith married Mr. Maxwell , 

ISSUE. 

35 Lulu Maxwell 

36 Wiliiani C. Maxwxll 

-'•''Henry Smith married Mary Claire June lo, 1843. 

ISSUE. 

Died 

37 Josiah Smith 1. I'.l. 1847 2. S. 1906 
1)8 Josiah Smith 1. 19. 1847 8. 8. I9()(; 
59 Amanda Sniilh 
"0 Malinda Smitii 

1 Mary Smith 

2 Nancy Smith 
'3 Willis Smith 

4 Jesse Smith 
J5 Jacob Smith 
6 Albert Smith 

-''"John Smith married Hattie Bresler Jan. 18, 1866 



'7 P. L. Smith 

■8 Ruby L. Smith 

'9 Samuel G. Smith 

$0 Walter E. Smith 

M Harry B. Smith 

-''P. L. Smith married Mattie Swan Mar. 3, 1892. 

ISSUE. 

Born 
i2 Floyd Smith 7, 27. 1893 

3 Charley Smith 5. 12. 1895 

4 Arthur Smith 7. 18. 1896 
.5 Mary A. Smith 12. 18. 1898 
■6 Benjamin Smith 1". 17. 1900 
i7 John Smith lo. I. 19;)2 
1.8 Everette Smith 4. 14. l'.)()7 
i 

\ -'^Ruby L. Smith married (ist) Frank Stolte Jan. 13, 1889. 

I ISSUE. 

1 Born 

■9 Alpha Lou Stolte 3. :w. 189;) 

iO Hattie Corrine Stolte :;. :{. 1892 

• -'^Ruby L. Smith married (2d) Mr. Griggs Oct. 4, 1896. 

[ ISSUE. 

|! Born 

1 Dorothy May Griggs 8. 22. 1897 

2 John Hampton Griggs 5. 15. 1901 

3 Richard Samuel Griggs 1. 15. 1907 

35 





1 lorn 


1. 
1. 


19. 
19. 


1847 
1847 


6. 


5. 


1848 


10. 


24. 


1849 


5. 


9. 


1852 


3. 


3. 


1855 


12. 


27. 


1857 


8. 


12. 


1860 


'.). 


13. 


1863 


12. 


14. 


18S6 


riattie 


Bres 




IS 


SUE. 




Born 


12. 


5. 


1866 


8. 


8. 


1870 


12. 


22. 


1873 


7. 


30. 


1879 


8. 


26. 


1883 



■-'"'•'Samuel G. Smith married Lulu E. Sinclair Jan. lo, 1897. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

294 \\illi;ini ll(.w;iril Smitli 10. ;il. 1900 

295 l.i-oiiard Kau Smith 7. 22. 1902 

296 F.lsio Mav Sniitli 2. 29. 1904 

297 Daiscy Fern Sinitli 1. 4. 1906 

^'''"Walter E. Smith married Pearl Manker Sep. i, 1904. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

298 lului William Smith 7. 23. 1905 

299 I'.Uis Harrictte Smith 4. 3. 1907 

-"■'^Josiah Smith married Sarah E. Webb Dec. 17, 1881. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

300 M.irv r. Smith 10. 4. 1882 

301 Kuhv K. Smith 12. 8. 1883 

302 Riitli Smith 7. 31. 1885 

303 Annie G. Smith 6. 1. 1887 

304 Clara K. Smith 10. ;M. 1888 

305 ricnrv Smith ID. S. 1890 

306 C. Randolph Smitli 11. 9. 1892 

307 .Mabel Smith 0. 21. 1894 

308 \'i<ia J. Smith 8. 18. 1897 

309 California Smith 9. 27. 1899 

^''JtAmanda Smith married William Rouse Dec. 31, 1868. 

ISSUE. 

Born Died 



9. 17. 1878 
2. 9. 1881 
7. 18. 1886 



310 


Ch.'irlos J. Rouse 


0. 


1. 


1870 


311 


Joiin \\\ Rouse 


») 


19. 


1873 


312 


.\<»ah R. Rouse 


12. 


19. 


1875 


313 


Mary L. Rouse 


12. 


12. 


1877 


314 


Harry Rnusc 


I. 


11. 


1881 


"^15 


Ah in I'". Rouse 


6. 


21. 


1882 


316 


lluhiT Rouse 
(Twins) 


9. 


13. 


1885 


317 


kuhii^ S. Rouse 


9. 


n. 


1885 



•"•'"Charles J. Rouse married Ollie M. Nosier. 

ISSUE. 

318 [•".luur Rouse 

319 Mahcl W, Rouse 

320 William 11. Rouse 

36 



^"John W. Rouse married Bonnie P. Hartsock. 

NO ISSUE. 

•"^Mary L. Rouse married Charles A. Somes. 

ISSUE. 

321 Charles A. Somes, Jr. 

2'^'Jacob Clark Smith married Josephine Doyle Sep. 27, 1885. 

j ISSUE. 

' Born Died 

322 Clarence Ledon Smith 9. 14. 18S6 10. 13. 1897 

323 John Henry Smith 5. 17. 1889 9. 26. 1898 

324 Clark Ellis Smith 10. 17. 1890 • 7. 22. 1892 

325 Neoma Ann Smith 10. 23. 1893 

326 Ora Everette Smith II. 3. 1895 

327 Joseph Lillard Smith 8. 7. 1897 6. 13. 1901 

328 Leona Leia Smith 9. 17. 1899 
.329 Hattie Smith 11. 10. 1901 

330 Josiah Smith 11. 18. 1903 

331 Willis R. Smith 12. 5. 1906 

I ''''Albert Smith married Lou Kohlman, 1892, 

! ISSUE. 

Born 

332 Albert Smith 1895 
^333 Zola Smith 1898 

^^'Martha Smith married George Boyd Feb. 18, 1846. 

ISSUE. 

Died 

5. 26. 1892 



1903 







Born 


334 James Boyd 


12. 


23. 


1846 


J35 Catherine Boyd 


10. 


24. 


1848 


336 Emily Boyd 


3. 


3. 


1851 


337 Smith Boyd 


4. 


24. 


1853 


338 Mary Boyd 


3. 


11. 


1855 


339 Dempsey Boyd 


8. 


17. 


1857 


340 Martha Boyd 


2. 


7. 


1860 


341 George W. Boyd 


12. 


24. 


1861 



''•^^James Boyd married Susan Detwiler May, 187 1. 

ISSUE. 
'342 Henry E. Boyd 

343 Frank H. Boyd 

344 Bessie M. Boyd 

345 Ruth V. Boyd 

346 Samuel D. Boyd 
J47 Josephine Boyd 
348 Azaline B. Boyd 
J49 Ralph H. Boyd 
350 May D. Bovd 

.?51 Albert M. Boyd 



■'^-Henry E. Boyd married Delia Crom Apr., i5g3. 

NO ISSUE. 

■'^'Bessie M. Boyd married Ed. Andersen Jan., igoo. 

NO ISSUE. 

-'^'Josephine Boyd married Mark Bohrer Nov., 1905. 

NO ISSUE. 

•■••'•'Albert M. Boyd married Melisa McBurney Sep., 1907. 
•••"Catherine Boyd married G. W. Shrader Dec. 4, 1873. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

352 Catliorinc v'^hradcr 1. 8. 1875 

353 I.Muisc SliradcT 7. 12. 1876 

354 George B. Shrader 1. 31. 1881 

355 I'.laine \V. Shrader 2. 8. 1884 

356 Dauglitcr (Died in infancy-) 

357 Carl Jacob Slirader 9. o. 1888 

■■'•'-Catherine Shrader married Scott Van Winkle July 4, 1898. 

NO ISSUE. 

"•■'■'Emily Boyd married John Mauk Jan., 1871. 

ISSUE. 

358 Lawrence Mauk 

359 Herman -Mauk (Dead) 

360 l^:ir.)y .Mauk 

361 (ieorge J. .Mauk 

362 Lillie Mauk 

363 Maude .Mauk 

364 C"lintf>n Mauk 

365 Russell .Mauk 

366 Mary Mauk 

•''■'^Lawrence Mauk married Minnie Jones Oct., 1902. 

ISSUE. 
387 Rali.li J. Mauk 

■'■'''"Elroy Mauk married Roselle Burns, 1898. 

ISSUE. 

368 I'.lnier Mauk 

369 Mabel Mauk 

38 



^""'^Lillie Mauk married Emanuel Kile. 

ISSUE. 

370 Grctta Mac Kile 

"'''Mary Bcyd married P. S. Loucks June. 1878. 

ISSUE. 

371 Artlnir Loucks 

372 Ralph Loucks 

373 Grace Loucks 

374 Irene Loucks 

375 Preston Loucks 1 

•""Dempsey Bcyd married Mae Gardner, 1898. 

NO ISSUE. 

■*^"Martha Boyd married J. C. Metcalf. 
^^'•'Joseph Smith married Nancy League, 1854. 

ISSUE. 

Born . Died 

376 David H. Smith 6. 4. 185£ 

377 EUza C. Smith 11. 18. 1856 
J78 Jesse S. Smith 4. 2. 1858 
179 J. R. Smith 7. 31. 1861 

'380 George W. Smith 8. 22. 1863 

381 James W. Smitii 10. 17. 1865 

382 I(hi ^L Smith 12. 17. 1868 1. 3. 1880 

383 Sarah L. Smith 3. 23. 1871 2. 25. 1885 

3''David H. Smith married (ist) Jennie A. Winegarden Feb. 3, 
1881. Jennie A. Winegarden died Mar. 11, 1896. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

J84 Clark E. Smith 11. 27. 1881 

J85 Mearle C. Smith 11. 10. 1887 

J86 Floy E. Smitli 11. 22. 1893 



371; 



David H. Smith married (2d) Luella J. Broadbent Mar. 25, 1903. 



ISSUE. 
Born 

187 Lois Elva Smith 6. 8. 1905 



384 



Clark E. Smith married Ora Pitchford June 8, 1904. 

ISSUE. 

Born Died 

88 Mildfed Hazel Smith 4. 7. 1905 12. 15. 1905 

39 



•^"'"Jesse S. Smith married Luseba Elvira Quimby Nov. 22, 1886. 

NO ISSUE. 

•''^"Geo. W. Smith married Florence Hardwick May 29, 1886. 

ISSUE. 
Born Died 

389 Minnie Luolla Mac Smith II. -12. IS.sr K). 5. 1907 

390 l-:arl Roy Smith J. V2. 1889 

391 Walter Raymond Sniitli 5. 30. 1890 

392 ('.(.orgie Smith 1. 23. 1894 

393 Ruby Grace Smith 2. 20. 1901 

'■'^' James W. Smith married Mae Keaswille June 8, 1894. 

NO ISSUE. 

-•'■-Jesse Smith married Harriette Ogg May 10, 1861. 

ISSUE. 

Born Died 

394 Carrie M. Smith 12. 20. 1862 

395 Flora M. Smith 11. 19. 1864 

396 Sarah E. Smith 5. 12. 1867 

397 Anna K. Smitli 2. 18. 1870 

398 Mary E. Smith G. 28. 1872 

399 Kizzie B. Smith 4. 24. 1875 12. 25. 1881 

^"^Carrie M. Smith married C. A. Colborn Aug. 13, 1891. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

400 Harry W. Colborn 1. 23. 1886 

401 I.c-na' Co!l)orn 12. 20. 1888 

402 Bessie Colborn 1. 19. 1890 

•■"••''Flora M. Smith married J. T. House Dec. 25, 1893. 

ISSUE. 

liorn Died 

403 I'aninu- House 1". 1S94 8. 19. 1899 

404 Lewis Sherman House 7. 1899 8. 17. 1899 

405 .Mary House 5. 28. 1904 

•'""Sarah E. Smith married W. W. Luce June 7, 1899. 

ISSUE. 
Born 

406 Kali)li \V. Iv Luce 7. 8. 1901 

407 ij.irriettc Jane Luce 8. 6. 1903 

40 









ISSUE 








Born 


411 


William J. Smith 


4. 


18. 1864 


412 


yiiiy Smith 


*> 


23. 1860 


413 


Hattie Smith 


8. 


15. 1870 


414 


Anna Smith 


4. 


16. 1873 


415 


Callierine Smith 


7. 


24. 1878 


416 


Emma D. Smith 


6. 


24. 1881 



•«"^Mary E. Smith married W. W. Brinker Dec. 20, 1899. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

408 Mabel F. Brinker 10. 14. 1900 

409 Raymond S. Brinker 7. 15. 1903 

410 Mildred L. Brinker 8. 1905 

-•'■Philip Smith married Hannah Louise Snyder Jan. i, 1863. 



Died 

10. 27. 1877 



8. 19. 1892 



^'-May Smith married William Browneller Sep. 30, 1885. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

417 Tessie P. Browneller 8. 1886 

418 Edna C. Browneller 7. 24. 1888 

419 Florence M. Browneller 7. 1890 

^i^Hattie Smith married Prof. F. W. McVay Sep. 7, 1898. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

1420 Leanna Louise :\IcVav 3. 1901 

421 Williard Smith McVaj' 12. 25. 1905 

•* ^•''Catherine Smith married Rev. G. G. Kerr Aug. 4, 1904. 

ISSUE. 

Born 
,422 George Gibson Kerr 6. 1905 

I 254Mary Smith married W. F. Bute Oct. 11, 1864. 

\ ISSUE. 

! Born Died 

423 Evclena Bute 5. 7. 1868 5. 21. 1880 

424 Kate Estella Bute 8. 3. 1871 

'^Kate Estella Bute married C. J. McGill Dec. 25, 1901. 

ISSUE. 

425 Frank Bute McGill : 12. 2. 1902 
}26 Mary Emily McGill 2. 23. 1908 

41 




JOHN GAIJ.EV. 



'John Galley married Margaret Jordan Feb. lo, 1847. 

ISSUE. 



427 MiTK.-m r,,illcy 



Born 

1858 



John was the third child of Philip and Miagdalena Galley. He was born 
April 18, 1801. What education he received was obtained in the common schools. 
He could read and speak both German and English. John learned the weaver's 
trade, and made much of the clothing for the family as well as the bed and 
table linen. He also wove many beautiful coverlets which are so highly prized 
these days. He was mild of manner, retiring in disposition, kind and pleasant 
to all. So strict was he in regard to promises that it was said of him: "His 
word was good as a bond." He was very fond of fishing and hunting. Many 
times he brought in the speckled beauties that once played in the Youghiogheny 
River. On Feb. 10, 1847 — being then in his forty-seventh year — he married 

42 



Margaret Jordan and was given the old saw mill property lying along Dick- 
erson Run. On this was a small house which stood close to the mill, and as 
nearly as can be located, stood where the P. McK. & Y. R. R. depot now stands 
When Grandfather Philip Galley died he willed this property to John, and at 
his death, if there were no heirs, it was to revert back to the Galley estate. Ir 
1858 a son — named Morgan — was born. 

John Galley's life was largely dominated by his wife, Margaret, so we 
write of her. Aunt "Marg," as she was known to all the relatives, was a willing 
and kind help in sickness and death among them. Her quickness to take of 
fense, together with a ready tongue, made it impossible for her to be on gooc 
terms with all the friends at one time. The older grandchildren will remem 

' ber, how on several occasions, Margaret had the time set for John to die; anc 
at one time had all his grave clothes prepared. At last, when he did die, th< 
writer remembers distinctly of Margaret's sitting and knitting while the friends 
gathered to attend the funeral. Just her peculiar way. For some time before 
her death she lived with a nephew of hers, and died without the care she hac 
many times showed to others in sickness and death. Morgan was indulgec 
while young, and grew up a n'er do well, deserted his mother, and if living ai 

; this writing his whereabouts are unknown. 

John and Margaret were for many years members of the Cumberlanc 
Presbyterian Church at Vanderbilt, but later united with the Dunkard Church 
John died April 6, 18S8, at the age of 87 years. Margaret died March, 1897. 




THE JUHX GALLF.V HOMICSTEAD. 




TRADITION HOME OF JACOB GALLEY 



'Jacob Galley married Fannie Sherrick, 1826. 

ISSUE. 

L!(irii Died 

428 Mrirtlia Oallcy a. 7. 1829 4. 12. 1895 

429 A Mill (Diid in infaiic}') 

We have been able to obtain but little history of Jacob, the fourth child 
of Philip and Magdalena Galley. 

He was born April 4, 1803, and was a weaver of coverlet and linen. At the 
Galley Reunion, held at Dickerson Run, Pa., Sept., 1897, was exhibited some 
beautiful tabic linen woven by him. The beautiful coverlet shown in the ac- 
companying illustration was woven from home-grown flax by him prior to the 
year 1824. In the Union town (Pa.) "Genius of Liberty," Oct. 9, 1827, appeared 
the following notice of Jacob Galley's business: 

"Jacob Galley informs his friends that he has commenced the business of 
coverlet weaving at his residence in Tyrone township, one mile from the 
Youghiogheny River, near the road leading from the Broad Ford to Hurst's 
mill on Jacob's creek, where he is prepared to weave all kinds of coverlets, 
carpeting and table linen according to the most fashionable patterns." 

Jacob Galley was killed Nov. 10, 1829, while helping to overturn a flat-boat 
on the Youghiogheny River near Broad Ford. His widow married Peter, the 
oldest brother of Jacob Galley. 

44 




COVERLET WOVEN BY JACOB GALLEY 



^-^Martha Galley married Henry Newcomer Oct. 6, 1845. 



430 Amanda F. Newcomer 

431 L^iah Frank Newcomer 

432 Joseph Scott Newcomer 

433 ALartlia Ann Newcomer 

434 Menry Earl Newcomer 





ISSUE. 




Born 


10. 


1. 1847 


4. 


27. 1850 


3. 


16. 1854 


•) 


7. 1857 


8. 


31. 1871 



4.'!( 



'Amanda F. Newcomer married Joshua Colvin Feb. 22, 1866. 



135 

136 
137 
138 
139 
140 



Artliur D. Colvin 
George H. Colvin 
ALabel F. Colvin 
Harold P. Colvin 
Leia E. Colvin 
Lenor Colvin 



ISSUE. 

Born 

3. 3. 1867 
9. 8. 1871 

10. 17. 1877 

4. 31. 1891 

5. 20. 1884 
1. 21. 1868 

45 



Died 



3. 26. 1868 



^■'■'Arthur D. Colvin married Daisy M. Chapman June 6, 1900. 

ISSUE. 

441 Bert Colvin 

442 Luther Colvin , » 

443 Bernice Colvin 

■*'*Uriah Frank Newcomer married Lucy Elwood Jan. 2, 1883. 

ISSUE. 
Burn Died 

444 Roy Elwood Newcomer 11. 10. 1883 

445 Bessie Olive Xewcomer .J. 1.5. 188.) 3. 20. 1886 

446 Lutie June Newcomer 5. 26. 1887 

447 Lily Frank Newcomer 8. 29. 1890 

448 Henrv Abraham Newcomer 12. 30. 1891 

449 Irma' Earl Newcomer 8. 7. 1892 

450 Paul McKinlev Newcomer 1. .5. 189.) 

451 Percy William Newcomer 8. 14. 1902 

^••'•Lutie June Newcomer married L. L. Halstead Jan. 24, 1906. 

NO ISSUE. 

^••■-Joseph Scott Newcomer married Mary Lee Foxworthy Oct. 16, 
1863. 

ISSUE. 
Born 

452 Leona Emily Newcomer 1. 14. 1887 
463 ^Label Pearl Newcomer 4. 21. 1890 

454 Scottie Lee Newcomer 4. 24. 1894 

■•'''Leona Emily Newcomer married E. P. Ingersoll Jan. i, 1905. 

NO ISSUE. 

••'■'Martha Ann Newcomer married J. C. Stevens Apr. 14, 1875. 

ISSUE. 
iiorii 

455 lAona Stevens 3. 27. 1870 

•'•'Lona Stevens married W. F. Druehl Aug. 17, 1898. 

ISSUE. 
r.iirn 

456 Marparet .Martha Druehl 8. 10. 1902 

457 r.cnevive Helen Druehl 3. 18. 1 <.»').-, 



46 




DAVID GALLEY. 



^David Galley married Martha Snively May 17, 1829. 



458 Henry Galley 

459 Sarah Galley 

460 Joseph Galley 

461 Margaret Galley 

462 Susan Galley 

463 lolin Gallev 

464 Eliza Galley 

465 Wesley Galley 

466 Willis W. Galley 

467 William Quail Galley 

468 Martha J. Galley 



ISSUE. 

Born 
1. 26. 1831 

1. ;?8. 1832 
6. 7. 1833 
6. 6. 1835 

2. 19. 1837 

2. 20. 1838 
4. 29. 1839 

12. 30. 1840 

3. 10. 1844 
3. 24. 1846 

11. 2. 1847 

47 



Died 



1872 

1859 
1842 
1859 
1862 

1866 
1863 



David Galley, the subject of this sketch, was the fifth child of Philip anc 
Magdalcna Galley and was born May 9, 1805, in Tyrone township, Fayette Co. 
Pa. David received the same schooling as that of his older brothers. He was 
a hard-working man, economical, honest and upright, highly respected by al 
who knew him. He was elected school director in 1842, assessor in 1850 anc 
school director again in 1859. He would amuse himself by giving the schoo 
teachers of that day questions in simple fractions such as this: If one and one 
half herring cost one cent and a half, what will three and a half herring cost; 
Some of them would come to him with a slate full of figures, then he woulc 
take a hearty laugh. 

He married Martha Snively May 11, 1S29. He then bought a farm of 19J 
acres bordering on Jacob's Creek. Here they lived and toiled all their lives 
Eleven children were born to them. When all his children died or married anc 
left him and his faithful wife alone he still cared for his farm, adding 46 acres 
to the original tract. Twice a year he would go over his farm, keeping it clear 
of all obnoxious weeds. Wesley, his son, moved from his home in Illinois anc 
bought the old home place and cared for his parents in their last days. Davie 
Galley and his wife connected themselves with the Church of Christ in abou' 
the year 1850, to which they gave strong support financially, and lived devotee 
lives until the close. 

David died Feb. 26, 1876. 




Till-, D.WII) (iAU.EV HOMESTEAD. 
48 



■'•"^''^Henry Galley married Eliza Porter Apr., 1858. 

ISSUE. j 

469 .Martlia J. ('..illcy \ 

470 John S. Galley (Died in infancy) | 

471 David Galileo Galley (Dead), aged ;}G 

472 Ida Belle Galley (Dead), aged 26 

^'•'■'Martha J. Galley married Edward McFarland. 

ISSUE. 

473 John McFarland 

474 Pearl McFarland 

"*'-Ida Belle Galley married Sherman Shaw. 

ISSUE. 

475 Everettc Allen Shaw 

^•'■'•'Sarah Galley married Arba Shallenberger, 1851. 

ISSUE. 
Born Died 

476 Newton Shallenberger 12. 17. 1851 

477 Sarah C. Shallenberger 3. 8. 1853 3. 1874 

478 Mary Alice Shallenberger 1855 

479 Martha Belle Shallenberger 1857 1870 

480 Flora Ann Shallenberger 1859 1882 

481 Walter Scott Shallenberger 1862 

482 Cora Virginia Shallenberger 1864 1877 

483 Margaret Helena Shallenberger 1866 

484 Charles Webster Shallenberger 1868 

^"'•Newton Shallenberger married Harriett Newmyer Mar. 2( 
1874. 

ISSUE. 

485 Judson Shallenberger (Dead) 

486 Nellie Shallenberger (Dead) 

487 Sidney Stahl Shallenberger 

^■"^Mary Alice Shallenberger married Jacob Newmyer, 1881. 

ISSUE. 

488 Harry Newmyer (Dead) 

489 Sadie Newmyer 

490 Wilford Newmyer 

■*'*"Sadie Newmyer married Howard Vance. 

ISSUE. 

491 Baby Vance 

49 



■*^"Flora Ann Shallenberger married Clark Cottom. 

ISSUE. 

492 Robert Cottom 

493 Clarence Cottom 

■*^'Walter Scott Shallenberger married Maggie Morrison. 

ISSUE. 

494 Grace Morrison 
495 

496 
497 
498 
499 

500 (Dead) 

501 (Dead) 

^•'♦Grace Morrison married Conrad Hearthberger. 

NO ISSUE. 

■•""•'Margaret Helena Shallenberger married Geo. O'Neil. 

ISSUE. 

502 Bessie O'Neil 
503 O-Neil 

^'"^Charles Webster Shallenberger married Olive Wolf. 

ISSUE. 

504 Shallenberger 

505 Shallenberger 

506 Siiallenbtrger 

^'""Joseph Galley married Delia Hilliker, i860. 

ISSUE. 

Born Died 

507 i'.enjaniin Franklin Galley 5. 18. 1861 11. 1891 

508 William Sherman Galley 2. 2. 1866 

(Twins) 

509 Wesley Grant Galley 2. 2. 1866 4. 24. 1907 

510 hella Galley (Died in infancy) 

511 I'.tta Galley 1868 1898 

512 Nellie Galley 1870 

•'"'Benjamin F. Galley married Jennie Datson. 

NO ISSUE. 
50 



•"""^William Sherman Galley married Mary Evelyn Gwillim Feb. : 
1899. j 

ISSUE. ! 

I'.orii ] 

513 Audrey Ailecn Galley 11. 7. 1S99 \ 

514 Enid Willow Galley 9. L'.'J. 190;] 

515 Gwillim Ricliard Galley 10. i:?. 190.") 

•"'"■'Wesley Grant Galley married Mrs. Nannie F. Prock, 190: 
Mrs. Nannie F. Prock died, 1905. 

ISSUE. 
Born Died 

516 Delia Galley (Died in infancy) 

517 Nellie May Galley 5. 8. 1895 4. 14. 1907 

518 William Franklin Galley 11. 17. 1897 

519 Ruth Nannie Galley 10. 23. 1899 j 

520 Joseph Wesley Galley 2. 2. 1902 ] 

521 Oliver Justyn Galley 8. 11. 1905 | 

1 

■'^"Etta Galley married James Rising, 1887. 

ISSUE. 

522 Nellie Galley 

523 Blanch Gallev 

524 Frank Galley 

525 Ruth Galley (Dead) 

51-Nellie Galley married Mr. Wm. Pring, 1896. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

526 Frank W. Pring 4. 7. 1897 

527 Fern Lydin Pring 2. 11. 1 !•()() 

^'-'Margaret Galley married E. B. Sample. 

ISSUE. 

528 David Sample (Dead) 

529 Stewart Sample (Dead) 

530 Clark Samf)!e 

■*'^^Eliza Galley married W. B. Chain. 

ISSUE. 
„ 531 John Chain (Dead) 
I 532 Clarence Chain (Dead) 

^••-Clarence Chain married Eliza Kell. 

ISSUE. 

533 William Chain (Dead) 

534 Clara Chain 

535 John Chain 

51 



•"•'Wesley Galley married (ist) Mary A. Holmes, 1864. Mary 
A. Holmes died 1878. 

ISSUE. 

536 Cliarlcs K. Galley 

537 Sarah J. Galley (Dead) 

538 Marv A. Gallev (Dead) 

539 .M.-\r'tlui Belle Galley (Dead) 

540 Margaret A. Galley (Died 1896) 

^'■•'Wesley Galley married (2d) Eliza Stauffer. 

ISSUE. 

541 David Galley 

•''■"'Charles Galley married Eliza Sawyer, 1887. 

ISSUE. 

542 Frank W. Galley 

543 Laura E. Galley 

544 l-lunice B. Gallev 

545 Ruth A. Gallev" 

546 Anna A. Galley 

'•^"Margaret A. Galley married William Enos. 

ISSUE. 

547 l-"dith Pearl I'.nos 

^""David Galley married Eva Jones. 



548 I'.laneh .Mac Galley 

549 Clarence Edison Galley 

^' ^Martha J. Galley married Esli Coder Dec. 24, 1868. 





ISSUE. 




Born 


12. 


1903 


."5. 


11. 1907 


rie 


d Esli C 




ISSUE. 




Born 


6. 


26. 1869 


9. 


15. 1870 


(5. 


23. 1873 


4 


5. 1874 


G. 


8. 1875 


1. 


3. 1877 


8. 


1.5. 1879 


•) 


10. 1882 



Died 

550 Mary Belle Coder 6. 26. 1869 11. 3. 1870 

551 Anna Etta Coder 

552 David I-'ranklin Coder 

553 Jennie Coder 4 5. 1874 4. 15. 1874 

554 I.uella lima Coder 

555 Terry Hayes Coder 

556 Harrison Blaine Coder 

557 ( )live I.oyd Coder 

'•'■-'David Franklin Coder married Cora M. Kelley Dec, 1896. 

NO ISSUE. 
52 



"■'Luella Uma Coder married Charles Cumberland Apr. 13, igooj 

ISSUE. 

568 Child (Died in infancy) 

i 
""'■'•'Terry Hayes Coder married Nellie V. Powell Oct. 16, 1901. 

ISSUE. 

569 Xcllie I. Coder 

570 Ifarold B. Coder 

i 571 Ruth Anna Coder 

! 

"'•"Oliver Lloyd Coder married Mollie Hagerman Mar. 12, 1902 
i Mollie Hagerman died Nov. 16, 1902. 



572 Charles Clark Coder 



ISSUE. 




53 




ICIJZABIvTH GALLEY UGLKVKE. 



■'Elizabeth Galley married Jesse Oglevee May 14, 1826. 

ISSUE. 



Born 

573 Joseph OkIcvcc G. 22. J 827 

674 Martha OKlcvee 9. 4. 1829 

575 Anne O^lcvcc :>. 11. 18:52 

576 Sarah Oglovce 10. 18. 1834 

577 Catherine Oglevee 5. 18. 18.37 

578 I'hilip Galley Oglevee 11. 18. 1839 

579 John S. Oglevee 5. 8. 1842 

580 Mary Oglevee 7. 3. 1844 

581 Elizabeth (Jglevee 1. 31. 1847 

582 Louisa Oglevee 10. 12. 1850 



Died 
11). :.'f). 1894 



10. 25. 1895 
4. 18. 1876 



1858 



Elizabeth, the sixth child of Philip and Magdalena Galley, was born on the 
old home place at what is now Morgan Station, in Tyrone township. 

Her schooling, like that of most of her brothers and sisters, was limited 

54 



to what she could get from a few months' attendance each year in the old loj 
school house. She was, however, up to the average of her day in education 
and was especially a good reader, both in German and English. She was ; 
great Bible reader, and up to the time her children were old enough to under 
stand, she was very fond of her German Bible. After this, and because the; 
were not taught German, she used the English Bible, and always made it 
point to read to them a great deal from the Bible, which to this day the] 
cherish as a precious memory of their mother. 

When Elizabeth was young girls were brought up to view things differentl] 
from what they do nowadays. Then they looked forward to marriage and thi 
making of good wives and mothers as the fulfillment of the highest and nobles 
purpose of woman. Says one of her daughters: "I think my grandmothe 
must have been a noble woman, for surely her three girls filled high position 
as home-makers." 

It seems to us that this is as high a compliment as could ever be paid t( 
the character and worth of any woman: "She fitted her daughters to be goo( 
home-makers." 

Elizabeth Galley and Jesse Oglevee were quietly married May 14, 1826, an( 
went to live with his parents in the old log house that stood just above th^ 
brick house shown in the picture. 

There was little of the romantic in the lives of this young couple — jus 
plain devotion to the duties they were called upon to perform. For many year 
they had the care of Mr. Oglevee's invalid parents in their old age, and thi 
young wife devoted her time and energies to this task in a most gracious an( 
uncomplaining manner. 

About the year 1837 or 1838 the brick house now occupied by Mr. Willian 
Strickler was built and henceforth became the hospitable family homestead 
This house stands so exactly on the line between Dunbar and Franklin town 
ships that it may be truthfully said "the family sleep in one township ani 
eat their meals in another." This is a large house, but the heart of its mistres 
was ever larger, and her home was always open to the poor, the needy and dis 
tressed, as well as to her many friends and neighbors. 

Especially was this home of Elizabeth and Jesse Oglevee noted far ant 
near as the ever welcome stopping place for preachers who lived some dis 
tance away, and who came to preach at East Liberty and other places in thi 
neighborhood. They would come on Saturday night and remain until Monday 
morning. Other ministers, delegates and church people from a distance wh< 
came to attend general meetings always found a warm welcome in this home 
Its mistress was a woman of the strongest Christian principles, and her kin( 
disposition pervaded her whole life. "Her heart and hand and home were eve 
open to those in need and none were ever turned away from her door empt^ 
handed." 

As a young girl she had been trained to work, especially to spin and sev 
most beautifully. Specimens of table linen and toweling are still in the pos 
session of her family, for which she had prepared and spun the flax for he: 
father to weave into fancy patterns, before her marriage. After her marriag( 
and when her family began to add to her duties, she continued to spin and t< 
do all the hard work necessary to convert the flax into wearing apparel for hei 
family, also spun a great deal of wool for cloth and stockings. Again quoting 
the words of her daughter. Mrs. Anne Middleswarth, to whom the writci 
wishes here to make grateful acknowledgment for much valuable help on ; 
number of chapters in this book: "I femember mother making such a beauti 
ful piece of broadcloth. She spun the wool so beautifully, then dyed it nav] 
blue, and sent it to the mills to be woven and dressed, and it came back a: 
fine a piece of broadcloth as you will see anywhere to-day. I have heard hei 

55 



speak of spinning flax all one winter and holding Sister Mattie, then a small 
child, on her lap most of the time, as she could only keep her quiet in that way. 
Then to think of what had to be done in the way of 'scouring' the yarn before, 
and getting all that cloth bleached, etc., after it was woven, and of making it 
up into clothing all by hand with a family of little children, and her many other 
duties that go with farm life. A girl nowadays would certainly think such a 
life an insurmountable mountain. And I want to say a word about mother's 
peaceful ways in her family. Father and mother's married life was surely 
an ideal one, as I never heard either of them speak one cross or fault-finding 
word to the other. There seemed to be great unity of opinion in regard to 
bringing up the children, and that, I think, caused all of us to have the utmost 
conhdence in the love for both of them, and for that reason I think there was 
less than the usual jangling and quarreling among us youngsters. Of course, 
mother punished us as mothers have to do, but father seldom ever did. His 
word was law always, but in a kind and loving way, and what one of them 
proposed the other was always in sympathy with, and much love seemed to 
prevail at all times between them." 

Such in brief was the life and character of Elizabeth Galley Oglevee. She 
was the writer's grandmother, dead long years before he was born, hence he 
never knew her, and can scarcely be accused therefore of filial prejudice, but 
from various sources come such unstinted praise of her simple, pure and Godly 
life; her lowly ways of thrift and industry and devotion to family and home 
duties that we may be pardoned for expressing a genuine pride in having de- 
scended from such a grand, good specimen of the "old-fashioned woman," of 
whom some one has beautifully written: 

"No clever, brilliant thinker, she. Are led to ideal.s true and sweet. 

With collejre reford anil defjree: And lind all jiurity and sood 

She has not known tlic jiaths of fame, In her divinest niothcrhood. 

I'lic World has never heard her name; She keeps her faith unshadowed still— 

She walks in old. lon^-trodden wa.vs. (iod rules the world in good and ill; 

The valle.vs of the .vesterda.vs. .Men in her creed are brave and true. 

Home is her kiiiudoni, love is her dower — And women pure as pearls of dew. 

She seeks no other wand of power And life for her is high and grand. 

To make hi'ime sweet, bring lieaven near, B,v work and glad endeavor spanned. 

I'o win a sniih- and wljie a tear. 'Hiis sad old earth's a brighter place 

.•\nd do her d\it.v da.v b.v da.v. All for the sunshine of her fare; 

In her own ipiiet place and wa.v. Iler ver.v smile a blessing throws, 

Aroiunl her childish hearts are twined. .\nd hearts are happier where she goes. 

.\s round somi> reverened saint enshrined. A gentle, clear-e.ved messenger. 

And following hers the childish feet To whisper love— thank God for her!" 

We are prouder to have had a mother, a grandmother and a great-grand- 
mother to whom such lines apply in very truth, than we could ever have been 
with all the position, power and wealth the world could offer. 

God help us all to be at least a credit to such ancestry. 

•''"■'Joseph Oglevee married Rebecca Stoner Oct. 25, 1850. 

ISSUE. 

Born Died 

583 Lee Roy Woods Oglevee 10. 9. 1857 2. 16. 1874 

584 Junclinc Oglevee 9. 18. 1853 

585 .Anna Klizabeth Oglevee 2. 5. 1854 
686 los.sc .'\dams Oglevee 2. 25. 1860 
587 \Vm. Gilmore Oglevee 11. 19. 1865 

589 C'liri^topluT Stoner Oglevee 5. 24. 1868 

590 Stark V. Oglevee 12. 5. 1873 3. 30. 1875 




THE ELIZABETH GALLEY OGLEVEE HOMESTEAD. 



^""^Emeline Oglevee married N. D. McClure, 1878. 



ISSUE. 



591 Joseph Clarendon McClure 6. 

592 Anna D. McClure 11. 

593 Ellen Rebecca McClure 11. 
i 594 Matthew Simpson McClure 7. 

595 Sara Ida McClure 1. 

596 Eunice Em. McClure 12. 

597 Nathaniel De Hass McClure 7. 

598 Christopher C. McClure 11. 

599 Genevive W. McClure 5. 

600 Edward Oscar IVIcClure 3. 



Born 


12. 


1879 


22 


1881 


7. 


1882 


24. 


1884 


17. 


1886 


7. 


1888 


9. 


1890 


12. 


1892 


22. 


1895 


3. 


1897 



^^'^Ellen Rebecca McClure married J. W. Gallagher. 

57 



'^'^Anna Elizabeth Oglevee married Rev. W. S. Danley, 1876. 

ISSUE. 

Born Died 

601 Joseph William Danley 9. 18. 1877 11. 5. 1882 

602 Grace .Martha Danley 9. 18. 1879 

603 Emma Rebecca Danley 2. 6. 1882 

604 Helen Luella Danley :i. 18. 1884 

605 Texana Margaret Danley 4. 20. 1887 

606 Nellie Williard Danley " 5. HI. 1890 

607 Philip Yale Danley 4. 19. 1894 

608 Ruth Anna Danley 5. 6. 1897 

^^'■'Jesse Adams Oglevee married Emma Gibson. 

ISSUE. 

609 Jessie Oglevee 

^'S^William Gilmore Oglevee married Louise McAvoy Dec. 4, 1895. 

ISSUE. 

610 Elizabeth Oglevee 

611 Donovan Oglevee 

^'^Martha Oglevee married John W. Stoner Dec. 25, 1848. John 
W. Stoner, born Nov. 7, 1825; died July 31, 1899. 

ISSUE. 
Born Died 

612 Ann Eliza Stoner Jo. .">. 1849 

613 Jesse Anderson Stoner 1. 4. ]8")1 

614 Isaac Xewton Stoner 4. TiO. 18.J4 

615 Jonathan Stoner G. 15. 1853 7. 1853 

617 Martha J. Stoner 8. 23. 1856 2. 9. 1889 

618 John Dudley Stoner 1. 12. 1858 

619 Charles C. Stoner 3. 7. 1860 

620 Sarah Ellen Stoner 5. 21. ISd'i 

621 Frank R. Stoner 6. 10. lS(i4 

622 .Mary .\. Stoner 8. 17. 1866 

623 Caroline H. Stoner 9. 15. 1868 

624 Bertha E. Stoner 2. 22. 1871 

625 Sabina Belle Stoner 2. 27. 1873 



^'-Ann Eliza Stoner married E. O. Harper Dec. 25, 1873. 

ISSUE. 
Born 

626 Mary lUlle Harper 2. S. 1877 

•''"Mary Belle Harper married John Belle Jan. 28, 1896. 

ISSUE. 

627 James Oldham Belle 8. 24. 1899 

58 



^^•■'Jesse Anderson Stoner married Susan Barnhouse Dec, 1880., 

ISSUE. 

628 llarrv StDiur (Dead) 

629 William Stoner j 

630 Laura Stoner 

631 lessc Frank Stoner 
632 

(.Twins) (Dcail) 
633 

634 Mattie Stoner 

635 Jessie Stoner * 

^'•^''Laura Stoner married James Whitehead. 

ISSUE. , 

636 Loyette Wliitehead 

*5^^Isaac Newton Stoner married Fannie Rouselat Sep. 20, 1883. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

637 Earnest L. Stoner 

638 Elsie Stoner 11. 11. 1891 

639 Mabel Stoner 6. 1902 

•5'^'Earnest L. Stoner married Rose Averill Dec. 26, 1906. 

NO ISSUE. 
"^-"Sarah Ellen Stoner married Eddie Balenger Jan. ig, 1888. 

ISSUE. 

640 Grace Balenger 

641 Paul Balenger 

642 Ruth Balenger 

643 Pearl Balenger 

644 Hazel Balenger 



621 



Frank B. Stoner married Coral Stone July 23, 1891. 



ISSUE. 
Born 
645 Pearl Dayton Stoner 1. 15. 1895 

^"Mary A. Stoner married (ist) William G. Morgan. 

ISSUE. 

j 646 Carl Morgan (Dead) 

•^"Mary A. Stoner married (2d) William Holeman Feb. 14, 1900. 

ISSUE. 
Born 
647 William Holeman 10. 1904 

59 



<'23Caroline H. Stoner married Edson Watson Dec. 23, i8gi. 

ISSUE. 

Bom 

648 Iiuz May Watson 10. 9. 18!»2 

^•"^Sabina Belle Stoner married Reese Chandler Feb. 23, 1892. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

649 lolin W. Chandler 1. 10. 1893 

650 'Walter Chandler 11. 9. 1894 

651 Charles Chandler 4. 17. 1898 

-'^"•Anna Oglevee married (ist) I. N. Coutant. 

ISSUE. 

658 Arthur S. Coutant 

659 Benjamin W. Coutant 

660 Charles Coutant 

661 Anna Coutant 

662 Lizzie Coutant 

^^•'■Anna Oglevee married (2d) John Middleswarth. 
"'"Arthur S. Coutant married . 

ISSUE. 

663 Florence Coutant 

664 Benjamin Coutant 

•■'■''•'Benj. W. Coutant married Harriet Spurrier. 

NO ISSUE. 

••'^'Charles Coutant married Elizabeth Dunseath. 

ISSUE. 

665 Ruth .\niu- Coutant 

'■'■'Anna Coutant married Mr. J. L. Crittenden. 

ISSUE. 

666 Zar Crittendon 

687 Florence Crittendon 

668 T. B. Crittendon 

''■'-'Lizzie Coutant married Mr. W. H. Bradley. 

ISSUE. 

669 Helen Mae Bradley 

670 Bertha -M. Bradley 

671 William K. 15ra<lley 

672 Charles Bradley 

'■"'■Sarah Oglevee married C. T. Stauffer. 

ISSUE. 

673 Althea StaufTer 

674 Lizzie StaufTer 

60 



675 Klvira StaufTcr (Dead) 
678 Sanford Stauffcr (.De:id) 

677 Mary F. Stauffer (Dead) 

678 Joseph Stauffer (Dead) 

""Althea Stauffer married G. L. Palmer. 

NO ISSUE. 
^''^hizzie Stauffer married Mr. Bettle. 

NO ISSUE. 

""Catherine Oglevee married Ccnrad Strickler Dec. ii, 1856. 

ISSUE. 







Born 


679 Emerson Strickler 


9. 


21 


1857 


680 Sanford Strickler 


9. 


11 


1859 


681 Elizabeth Strickler 


4. 


27 


1862 


682 Homer Strickler 


4. 


12 


1865 


683 Philip Strickler 


6. 


29 


1869 


684 Dora Strickler 


10. 


22 


1871 


686 Olive Strickler 


5. 


10 


1874 


686 Tilden H. Strickler 


9. 


38 


1876 



•^""^'Sanford Strickler married Mary Clifton. 

ISSUE. 

687 Catherine Strickler 

688 Myrtle Strickler 

689 Roy Strickler 

690 Carrie Strickler 

691 Earnest Strickler 

692 Albert Strickler 

693 Henry Strickler 

<5^^Catherine Strickler married Frank Featherstone. 

NO ISSUE. 
688Myrtle Strickler married Mertin Moses. 

NO ISSUE. 
^'^lElizabeth Strickler married G. W. Curry. 

ISSUE. 

694 Bessie Curry 

<58^Dora Strickler m.arried R. L. Barker. 



695 Catherine Barker 

696 Corine Barker 



ISSUE. 



61 



'^'^■''Olive Strickler married Benjamin Nash. 

ISSUE. 

697 Virginia Belle Nash 

698 .Mary Elizabeth Nash 

^^•'Tilden H. Strickler married Clara Bakie. 

NO ISSUE. 

'^'^Philip Galley Oglevee married Matilda Rainer Oct. 25, 1870. 

ISSUE. 
Born Died 

699 Howard R. Oglevee 10. 30. 1871 11. 30. 1871 

700 Oliver S. Oglevee 2. 8. 1873 

701 Bessie P^lorence Oglevee 12. 23. 1876 

702 Thomas Edison Oglevee 10. 2. 1878 

703 Lulu Oglevee 6. 28. 1882 

'"'Bessie Florence Oglevee married E. D. Miller, 1904. 

ISSUE. 

704 Philip Oglevee Miller 
Infant daughter 

^'•'John Oglevee married Anna Stauffer May 28, 1868. 

ISSUE. 
Born 

705 Arthur Oglevee 12. 14. 1809 

706 1-annie Oglevee 12. 13. 1871 

707 Jesse Oglevee 10. 7. 1881 

'"■''Arthur Oglevee married (ist) Olive Blosser Feb. 28, 1894. 
Olive Blosser died Apr. 9, 1897. 

ISSUE. 

708 liarl \V. Oglevee 

^"^Arthur Oglevee married (2d) Belle Junk Dec. 10, 1901. 

ISSUE. 

709 Chirk C. Oglevee 

710 ICdgar J. Oglevee 

711 Ikkii hranccs Oglevee 

"'"•Fannie Oglevee married John Pritts June 30. 1898. 

ISSUE. 
Ben Hale I'ritts 
Minta Dale I'ritts 

62 



^"^"Mary Oglevee married John Arnold Oct. 9, 1867. 

ISSUE. 







Born 


712 Jesse O. Arnold 

713 Emerson Arnold 

714 Anna Cora Arnold 

715 Le Roy O. Arnold 

716 Charles E. Arnold 


12. 

12. 
1. 
4. 
4. 


28. 

5. 
12. 

<). 

4. 


1SG8 
1870 
1872 
1874 
187(J 



Died 



7. 26. 1876 

"^'■^Jesse O. Arnold married Olive B. Dunn Oct. 14, 1897. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

718 Mary Evelyn Arnold 8. 10. 1900 

■^i^Emerson Arnold married Annette Junk Jan. 15, 1900. 

ISSUE. 

719 John Harold Arnold 

720 Walter E. Arnold 

721 Jesse O. Arnold 

"^^Anna Arnold married Andrew Swickard. 

ISSUE. 

722 Baby Swickard (Died in infancy) 

723 Harvey A. Swickard 
Infant son 

'^'Le Roy Arnold married Mary E. Harmon Aug. 16, 1900. 

NO ISSUE. 

°^^Elizabeth Oglevee married J. Espey Bute Nov. 10, i86g. 

ISSUE. 

724 Sadie Bute (Dead) 
i 725 Alice Bute 

726 Florence Bute (dead) 

^-'^Alice Bute married K. E. Davenport. 

ISSUE. 
727 
728 



729 

63 




SAMTI-.L f.AI.LKV. 

'"Samuel Galley married (ist) Matilda Strickler, 1835. Matilda 
Strickler died Oct. 13, 1857. 

ISSUE. 







Horn 


Died 


730 Springer Galley 


.5. 


31. 18:16 




731 l",kaii(.r dalk-y 


10. 


2S. 18;J7 


(l)it.(l in inl'auc}') 


732 Jacob Galley 


6. 


:{. 1841 




733 Philip Galley 


4. 


13. 1839 


9. 21. 1896 


734 lUlk- Galley 


1. 


3. 1843 




735 Alvin r.alley 


10. 


.-S. 1844 





'"Samuel Galley married (2d) Margaret Heath Feb. 23, i860. 
Margaret Heath died Sep. 11, 1876. 

NO ISSUE. 



Samuel Galley comes seventh in the line of Philip and Magdalena Galley's 
;hildren. He first saw the light of day Dec. 23, 1809. He was reared on his 
"ather's farm, and joined in all boyish sports that delight country children. 
When he was six years old he was started to subscription and district school. 
Hie attended German school one day then refused to go, saying he had grad- 
lated. Like all his brothers and sisters, he was early taught obedience, hon- 
iisty and industry and while yet young learned the shoemaker's trade. In 1335 
le married Matilda Strickler and they m.oved to a farm in North Union town- 
:hip, Fayette Co., Pa., where six children were born to them as follows: 
jpringer, Ellanor, Jacob, Philip, Belle and Alvin. They lived on this place 
wenty-one years, farm.ing in summer and in winter working at his trade. In 
856 he so-d his farm and m.oved to Toulon, Stark Co., 111. Here his wife 
Vlatilda died Oct. 13, 1857. 

Samuel was again married to Margaret Heath Feb. 23, 1880. They lived 
1 Stark Co., 111., until the year 1870, when they moved to Cass Co., Nebraska, 
inhere they spent the remainder of their days. Margaret died Sept. 11, 1876, 
nd Samuel died Dec. 10, 1889. at the ripe old age of ninety years. 

In politics Samuel was a Democrat, voting for Jackson for his first Presi- 
dent. He was for many years a member of the Christian Church, and led an 
lonorable Chrictian life. 




THE SAMUEL (GALLEY HOMESTEAD ( Prior to his moving to Nebraska). 

Now s irrounded by 300 of the largtst ovens in the coke region, 

producing 1200 tons of coke j:er day. 

65 



"^Springer Galley married Martha Stoner Mar. 23, 1867. 

ISSUE. 

Born ■ Died 

736 Alonzo Gallev 11. 1. 1871 7. 6. 1874 

737 1-rancis Marion Gallev 7. 13. 1873 

738 Bertha Galley 2. 17. 1875 

739 Emma Gallev 3. 8. ]878 

'"Francis Marion Galley married Elsie Wright Mar. 29, 1900. 

ISSUE. 

740 Opal Marie Galley 

741 Leroy Springer Galley 

742 Ruth Galley 

TssBgrtha Galley married R. W. Houghton Mar. 14, 1906. 

NO ISSUE. 

"^^Ernma Galley married Fred. Singleton Jan. i, 1907. 

NO ISSUE. 

"32Jacob Galley married Sarah J. Bradley Feb. 27, 1868. 

ISSUE. 

743 George F. Galley 

744 Belle Galley 

743George F. Galley married Alice Veach Jan. 11, 1892. 

ISSUE. 
745 

746 

747 
748 
749 
750 

'•■•'Philip Galley married Mary A. Heath Nov. 17, 1870. 

ISSUE. 

Born Died 

751 Pearl Galley 9. 30. 1871 10. 2. 1872 

752 Jessie Galley 11. IT). 1872 

"^Jessie Galley married W. G. Cheuvront July 18, 1897. 

ISSUE. 

Born Died 

753 Vernon Galley Cheuvront 11. '.». 1898 
764 Toddy Coleman Cheuvront 8. 2. 1900 

755 Philip Lemuel Cheuvront 9. 16. 1902 

756 .Mary Catherine Cheuvront 7. 30. 1904 10. 6. 1904 

757 Wiliiard Heath Cheuvront 2. 27. 1906 

66 



'■•^Belle Galley mairicd John H. Taylor Jan. 23, 1862. 

ISSUE. 

Born 
)8 Allen Eugene Taylor 3. 6, 1863 

59 Jacob Taylor 1:>. 23. 1864 

>0 Martha Ellen Taylor 2. 1. 1867 

>1 Henry Taylor 9. ]0. 1871 

\2 Anna Vista Taylor H 10. 1873 

'3 Edgar Leroy Taylor 8. 23. 1877 

14 Dayton Taylor 7. 16. 1882 

''"'■'Jacob Galley married Hope C. Werner Mar. 4, 1903. 

NO ISSUE. 

'•'"Martha Ellen Galley married David Fudge Mar. 24, 1892. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

5 Cecil Clifton Fudge 4. 7 1894 

6 Dorsey Emmette Fudge 3. 9. 1896 

7 Milo Everette Fudge 1. 9. 1902 

'•'^Henry Galley married Amanda Bertha Ratzlaff Jan. 21, 1902. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

8 Elva Lurenc Ratzhiff 2. 11. 1903 

''''-Anna Vista Galley married W. A. Ingersoll July 5, 1906. 

NO ISSUE. 

'•'^Edgar Lercy Galley married Cora Wallace Feb. 5, 1903. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

9 Hazel Ella Wallace 8. 10. 1905 

'35Alvin Galley miarried Rebecca Paul Nov. 17, 1873. 

ISSUE. 

Effie B. Galley 

1 Hester J. Galley 

"'^Effie B. Galley married (ist) Jas. J. Haffer Mar. 22, 1892. 

ISSUE. 

2 Malcolm Hafifer 

""Effie B. Galley married (2d) Mr. Hatch Mar. 26, 1894. 
'''Hester J. Galley married Mr. Hodges Jan. 28, 1904. 

ISSUE. 
h Baby Hodges (Dead) 
?3 Hodges 

t7 




JONATHAN GALLKY. 



^'Jonathan Galley married Anne Johnson Oct. 29, 1835. 

ISSUE. 

Died 

1. 2. 1888 









Burn 


774 


Nancy Galley 


4. 


30. 


1837 


775 


C'atlu-riiK- Galley 


7. 


23. 


1838 


776 


Susanna Galley 


6. 


30. 


1840 


777 


Joseph Galley 


8. 


28. 


1S41 


778 


Sarah Galley 


4. 


27. 


1843 


779 


Ma^'lalena Galley 


<). 


13. 


1845 


780 


Malin.la Galley 


r». 


11. 


1848 


781 


I'.liza Galley 


'.). 


0. 


1850 


782 


l-.lizaheth Galley 


• >. 


7. 


IS.-) 3 


783 


Jacdh Galley 


1. 


30. 


1 S5() 



68 



Jonathan was the eighth child of Philip and Magdalena Galley. He was 
born Feb. 26, 1812, on the old Peter Galley homestead near Broad Ford, Pa. 
His education was obtained in the common schools. In 1836 he married Sus- 
annah Johnson. His father then helped him buy a farm — underlaid with coal 
— in German township. Pa. Under his skillful care and management his farm 
soon became one of the finest in Fayette Co. and before many years had rolled 
by he had amassed quite a fortune. At his death his son Jacob became owner 
of the farm, but it has now passed into other hands. Jonathan was always 
known as a man of integrity, honorable in all his dealings with his fellow man, 
and attributes his good health and long life to his abstinence from all stimu- 
lants. He was the only one of Philip Galley's children who attended the Galley 
Reunion held at Dickerson Run, Pa., Sept. 2 and 3, 1897, being then in his 
eighty-sixth year. Hale and hearty he added much to the enjoyment of tUe 
occasion by giving a talk relating to his father's method of training his chil- 
dren — incidents and anecdotes connected with the children of the family. He 
Knited with the German Baptist Brethren Church in 1887 and was a consistent 
Hiember until his death. He died at his home in Garman township, Jan. 10, 
1900, of paralysis, being the last of the eleven children of Philip Galley. 
His wife Anna died Sept. 14, 1903. 




THE JONATHAN GALLEY HOMESTEAD. 





Born 


2. 


25 


1871 


8. 


12 


1872 


10. 


2 


1875 


2 


24 


1877 


10. 


18 


1878 


10. 


2 


1880 



"^Nancy Galley married Samuel Cover, 1870. 

ISSUE. 

784 Joseph Cover 

785 Clara Cover 

786 Anna Cover 

787 isaiali Cover 

788 Mary Cover 

789 Sarali Cover 

"^''Joseph Cover married Lucetta De Bolt Mar. 18, 1897. 

NO ISSUE. 

■'^^^Clara Cover married B. F. Manning June 6, 1901. 

ISSUE. 

790 Bennie Manning 

"^'■'Anna Cover married E. L. Fretts Aug. 31, 1901. 

ISSUE. 

791 Walter E. Fretts 

792 Ruth Lauretta Fretts 

'^'Isaiah Cover married Nora McCann May 18, 1898. 

ISSUE. 

793 Joseph C. Cover 

794 Xannic C. Cover 

"^Mary Cover married Jacob L. Mack Oct. i, 1903. 

NO ISSUE. 

"^'•'Sarah Cover married Williain A. Townsend Sep. 20, 1905. 

NO ISSUE. 

""•'■Catherine Galley married James Renshaw Oct. 3, 1861. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

795 George Renshaw 10. 2H. 18G2 

796 Mary A. Renshaw II. 21. 1804 

797 Carrii- L. Renshaw 2. 7. 1870 

798 Un(l>ie ( iJied in infancy) 

70 



"^George Renshaw married Annie Deffenbough. 

ISSUE. 

799 Ada Renshaw 

800 Lulu 1^. Konsliaw 

'•"'Mary A. Renshaw married G. H. Weigle May 24, 1884. 

ISSUE. 

Born Died 

501 Elmer O. Weigle 10. 18. 1885 

J02 Allen E. Weigle 8. 13. 1890 7. 10. 1898 

J03 John B. Weigle 6. 20. 1896 2. 4. 1904 

,i04 Baby girl 1907 

'^^Carrie L. Renshaw married John Schnatterly June 21, 1891. 

ISSUE. 
';06 Gabie V. Schnatterly 

06 Cloe M. Schnatterly 

07 Irene Schnatterly 

"•'Susanna Galley married W, B. Fogle Apr. 2, 1863. 

k ISSUE. 

8 Jacob Galley Fogle 

09 Baby Fogle (Dead) 

10 Anna C. Fogle (Dead) 

11 Jennie D. Fogle 

12 Etta P. Fogle (Dead) 

13 Emma O. Fogle 

14 Olive R. Fogle 

15 Sallie B. Fogle 

16 Allen W. Fogle 

17 Daisy M. Fogle 

18 Libbie G. Fogle 

19 Mary L. Fogle 

si^Jennie D. Fogle married William Donaldson June 5, 1887. 

ISSUE. 

'?0 Ethel Donaldson 
II Mamie Donaldson 

''2 Donaldson 

:3 Donaldson 

4 Donaldson 

i5 Donaldson 

1,6 Donaldson 

si^Emma O. Fogle married Joseph Lockwood Mar, 3, 1889. 

ISSUE. 

17 Hattie Lockwood 
S3 Gertrude Lockwood 
!3 Golden Lockwood 
83 Wagner Lockwood 
81 Mager H. Lockwood 

71 





Born 


4. 


6. 


1893 


9. 


9. 


1895 


10. 


7. 


1898 


(5. 


24. 


1901 


7. 


30. 


1903 



^^^Olive R. Fogle married John Wildridge Nov. 20, 1894. 

ISSUE. 

Dor II 

332 Gilbert J. Wildridge 2. 14. 1895 

333 I-ttta Wildridge 12. 20. 1897 

^^''Sallie B. Fogle married Edward McCracken Oct., 1897. 

ISSUE. 
Born 

334 Lottie D. McCracken S. 10. 1898 

835 Karl R. McCracken lo ::. 1»00 

'"'•'Mary L. Fogle niarried Glen Boles Apr. 5, 1905. 

ISSUE. 

836 Gladys Loui.sc Boles 

''"Jrseph Galley married Sarah Hosier Dec. 3, 1876. Sar 
Mosier died Mar. 23, 1900. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

837 .Vddie Z. GalKv 6. 23. 1877 

838 Mary Florence (bailey 10. 21. 1878 

'^•""Addie Z. Galley married Charles Leichty Apr. 29, 1901. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

839 Iva Marie Leichty 1 5. 1905 

^'^'"Mary Florence Galley married J. H. Royer June 16, 1904. 

NO ISSUE. 

"'""Malinda Galley married Allen S. Walters Nov. 23, 1871. 

ISSUE. 

840 i:tta V. W'alters 

841 Sarah Solisia Walters 
B42 Jon.ithan G. Walters 

843 Ephraim K. Walters 

844 .Mary E. Walters 

845 Malinda May Walters 

( Twins) 

846 .\!leii Ray Walters 

^••"Etta V. Walters married Rev. S. C. Cover Mar. 27, 1895. 

NO ISSUE. 
72 



^^^Sarah Solisia Walters married Prof. J. C. McClain Mar. 27, 1895. 

ISSUE. 

847 Allen W. McClain 

848 Eliza Lou McClain 

849 Mildred Marie McClain 

^^-Jonathan G. Walters married Amelia Snavely Dec. 19, 1901. 

ISSUE. 

850 Allen S. Walters 

'^•♦'Ephraim Walters married Etta Leckrone Mar. 10, 1899. 

ISSUE. 

551 Edna Melinda Walters 

;■ ^^^Mary E. Walters married Harry C. Lehman Sep. 7, 1905. 

ISSUE. 

52 Etta Marie Leckrone 

; '^'Eliza Galley married (ist) G. W. Conwell Nov. 4, 1886. 

ISSUE. 

Born Died 

j;53 Georganna Conwell 10. 15. 1887 10. 16. 1887 

'^^Eliza Galley married (2d) T. J. Smith Oct., 1892. 

NO ISSUE. 

"^-Elizabeth Galley married Joseph Beal Oct. 15, 1885. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

4 Emmette E. Beal 2. 2. 1887 

5 Harry S. Beal 7. 20. 1892 

6 Lindsey J. Beal 10. 28. 1894 

7'^'Jacob Galley married Harriet Hess Nov. 24, 1886. 

NO ISSUE. 



73 




BARBARA CxATJ.KV SNVDI'R. 



i-Barbara Galley married Henry Snyder Mar. 

ISSUE. 



857 .\rartha S. wSiiydcr 

858 David C. Snyder 

859 Jesse O. Snyder 

860 Catherine Snyder 

861 John Snyder 

862 Philip G. Snyder 

863 Margaret Louise Snyder 
8f)4 Sarali Ann Snyder 

865 Charlotte Snyder 

866 Dianna C. Snyder 



6, 1834. 





Born 




Uiea 


9. 


2. 1835 






9. 
2. 


10. 1837 

11. 1840 


2. 


19. 1865 


6. 


4. 1842 






12. 


9. 1844 






11. 


21. 184G 






5. 

12. 

7. 


9. 1849 
2. 1857 
13. 1853 


(Died 
11. 


in infancy) 
22. 1866 


3. 


5. 1856 







Barbara, the youngest of the three daughters of Philip and Magda 
Galley, was born June 20, 1814, in Tyrone township, Fayette Co., Pa. 
remained at home with her parents during all the years of her minority, fu 
ing the common duties of a country life, besides making herself useful to 
community in the way of helping tend the ferry (across the Youghiogh 
River) kept for the accommodation of travelers in those days when bri< 
were not so common as at the present time. Becoming well accustomec 
the waters in all stages we have frequently heard her tell of her youthful 
ventures in crossing the waters when overflowing their banks, not only ' 
passengers themselves, but riding their horses through the ford when 




THE BARBARA GALLKV vSNYDER HOMESTEAD. 



waters were up on the skirts of the saddle. Her education was of a com 
school kind and accorded with the times in which she lived. For her < 
religious training outside the home she was indebted to the labors of a W 
odist organization which was within a mile of her home, as was also the 
time schoolhouse. She was privileged to attend upon the preaching of s 
of the great and good men of those times, among whom were Samuel W 
field and James Sansom, and their revival seasons and songs especially r 
a lifelong impression upon her mind and character. Some of the song b 
then used were not only kept and prized, but much used by her all her ( 



/D 



ond among the last things, she gas us the delightful assurance that she be- 
lieved her conversion dated from these early times and circumstances. At the 
age of twenty she was married to Henry Snyder, of Rostraver township, West- 
moreland Co., Pa., where they spent the first several years of their married 
life, afterwards buying a piece of land in Franklin township, where by indu.stry 
and economy they made a home for themselves and spent the remainder of 
their lives. 

'"^'"Martha S. Snyder married Joel Evans Nov. 24, 1859. 

NO ISSUE. 

s.'i'^David Snyder married Mrs. . 



NO ISSUE. 

^59Jesse O. Snyder married Deborah Stockdale Jan. i, 1863. 

ISSUE. 

867 Robert H. Stockdale (Died in iiifancyj 

'^'^'Catherine Snyder married David Junk Jan. 4, 1866. 

ISSUE. 

868 Anna B. Junk 

869 Rebecca Junk (Dead) 

870 Martha Junk 

871 Samuel Junk 

872 Mary Junk 

873 Lottie Junk 

^"'John Snyder married Mary Montgomery Oct. 3, 1876. Mary 
Montgomery di^d, 1907. 

ISSUE. 

874 Clark M. Snyder 

875 Di.inna C. Snyder 

876 1'.. I'ranklin Snyder 

877 Ada Kate Snyder 

878 Icsse O. Snyder 

879 IMiilip G. Snyder (Dead) 

^'•''Dianna C. Snyder married J. C. Cruise, 1906. 

NO ISSUE. 



s»;; 



'Philip G. Snyder married Eliza J. Pope Dec. 30, 1869. 



ISSUE. 

Born Died 

880 Mary Louisa Snyder ]. 27. 1S71 12. 12. 1879 

881 Jesse O. Snyder 8. 17. 1872 

76 



4. 1876 
;{{). 1878 

1. 1880 

17. 1882 

12. 1884 

1S86 



4. IS. 1893 
7. 2.-). 1878 



9. 11. 1884 
4. 18. 1905 



882 William R. Snyder G. 28. 187.-) 

883 .\nna J. Snyder 8 
384 Jcannettc Daio Snyder 9 
885 Henry L. Snyder 9 
586 :\lartha E. Snyder 8 
'387 Frances Edna Snyder 4 

J89 Flora Kate Snyder 

I s.sijesgg Q Snyder married Rose Earle July i8, iSgg. 

ISSUE. 

Horn 
90 Anna Rutii Snyder 9. 16. 1904 

"^""'Jeannette Dale Snyder married J. R. Simms Jan. 31, 1899. 

ISSUE. 

I'orn 

3. r>. 1901) 
11. 13. 1901 
11. 29. 1903 

1. 3. 1907 



91 Ina Flora Simms 

92 Ramona Vivian Simms 

93 Edith Simms 

34 Norma Snyder Simms 



^'"^'Martha E. Snyder married Homer H. Montel Jan. 29, 1894. 



)5 Geneva Kate Montel 
Philip J. Montel 



ISSUE. 

Born 
2. 19. 1895 
12. 4. 1900 



Died 

1. 10. 1883 



I ^''^■*Flora Kate Snyder married Samuel Maydwell July 10, 1899. 

ISSUE. 

Horn 
6 Edna Grace Maydwell 7. 18. 1901 _ 

'^"■'Margaret Louisa Snyder married William De Vail Mar. 27, 

•73- 

ISSUE. 

Born 
^7 William Henry De Vail 1. 1. 1874 
Barbara Eleanor De Vail 6. 13. 1875 
Marion Leota De Vail 8. 20. 1886 

^'''William Henry De Vail married Mattie Palmer Apr. 26, 1906. 

NO ISSUE. 

^^''''•Dianna C. Snyder married Dr. F. R. McGrew Mar. 10, 1877. 

ISSUE. 

Grace Pearl McGrew 

Haze] May McGrew 
9* Martha Evans McGrew 
9( Dale Walton McGrew 
9C Finley R. McGrew (Dead) 

77 




ABRAHAM CALLHY. 



'•'Abraham Galley married Mary Stoner May 14, 1840. 



905 Eli Galley 

906 Albert M. Galley 

907 Clark S. Galley 

908 Martin L. Galley 



ISSUE. 

Burn 

9. 20. 1841 

1. 9. 1849 

11. 22. isr)() 

'.). II. IS.-,4 



Died 

1. 14. 1903 

n. 21. 1898 

9. G. 1887 



Abraham, the tenth child of Philip and Magdalena Galley was born S 
28, 1816. He was reared on his father's farm, and when old enough to g( 
school was sent there during the few months in winter time that the comr 
school was in session. The balance of the year he was required to help do 
work on the farm, where he remained and secured the best education in 
common schools that was possible for his father to bestow upon him at 

78 



time. When he had arrived at the age of twenty-four he thought as mar 
other young men have done that it v/as about time lo do something for himse! 
The first ofificial act of note of which we have a record was on May 14, 184 
when he was married to Mary Stoner, daughter of Christian and Anna Stone 
of Dunbar township, Fayette Co., Pa. Some time after this he purchased 
farm, adjoining, and which was part of the homestead land of his father. Upc 
this farm Abraham and his wife commenced keeping house and farming f( 
themselves. From the union of their marriage four children wore born, j 
of whom were boys — Eli, Albert M., Clark S. and Martin L., and all of who 
were reared upon the farm and educated. When they arrived at the a\ 
of manhood they all left their father and mother to follow pursuits for then 
selves. After many years had rolled by, and the two had been left by then 
selves to continue the labors on the farm., Mary, the wife and mother, w, 
overtaken with a long and severe illness from which she never recovered, ar 
on April 11, 1885, she died at the age of sixty-three years. Abraham was no 
left alone on the farm, where he remained for a number of years until tl 
time of the World's Faii which was held in Chicago. He thought he wou 
like to see the great fair, so he arranged his affairs, and in due time starte 
West. After seeing the fair and the city of Chicago he decided to go farthi 
west to Nebraska to see his brother Samuel, whom he had not seen for twem 
years. When this visit was ended he went still father west to visit a niec 




THE ABRAHAM GALLEY HOMESTEAD. 
79 



Mrs. O. F. Arnold, who lived at Aurora, Neb. Here he was taken sick, and 
after a few days illness, died on Nov. 6, 1893, at the age of seventy-seven years. 
His remains were brought back to his old home and buried beside his wife, 
Mary. Thus ended a life that was at all times honorable and useful. From 
early boyhood Abraham Galley had been a member of the Cumberland Pres- 
byterian Church, and his Christian character was ever an influence for good in 
the community in which he lived. He was a good neighbor and a well-re- 
spected citizen. 

••"•'■Eli Galley married Emma Huston Feb. 3, 1870. 

ISSUE. 
Born 

909 Uiura B. Galley 6. H. 1S72 

910 Frank B. Galley 10. :21. ISSO 

•'""Laura B. Galley married Joseph Taylor June 27, 1895. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

911 Cliflford Taylor 3. 20. 1896 

•""'Albert M. Galley married (ist) Delia Jones Oct. 20, 1881. 

ISSUE. 

912 Frank Galley 

913 Blanch Galley 

'•"'Albert M. Galley married (2d) Anna Taylor July 22, 1891. 

ISSUE. 

914 Walter Galley 

915 .Alice Galley 

916 Charles Galley 

'-"'Frank Galley married Miss Graff. 

ISSUE. 

917 Galley 

918 Galley 

919 Galley 

'"'^Clark Galley married Mary Cooper Dec. 12, 1878, who diec 
Sep. 17, 1903. 

ISSUE. 

920 l-:ilu-l Gallev 

921 .\raminta C. Galley 

'•"''Martin L. Galley married Ada Dixon. 

ISSUE. 

922 I'lorenei- .\I. Galley 

923 lolin .\. r,;illfv 

924 .Mary .\. Galley (Dead) 

925 R.ilpli K. Galley 

80 




HENRY GALLEY 



^^Henry Galley married Ruth Freeman May g, 1844. Ruth Fre 
man died Nov. 5, 1889. 

ISSUE. 

Born Died 

:i. 16. 1845 



926 Elizabeth Caroline Galley 

927 Franklin Morse Galley 

928 Allen Galley 

929 Emma Willard Galley 

930 Sabina G. Galley 

931 J. K. Ewing Galley 

932 Kate Freeman Gallev 

933 Belle N. Gallev 

934 Henrietta Gallev 



1. 


24 


1847 


1. 


14 


1849 





28 


1852 


1 . 


15 


1854 


3. 


23 


1857 


2. 


24 


1860 


1. 


14 


1862 


5. 


12 


1S65 



1. 27. 1874 



Henry Galley, the subject cf this sketch, was the youngest child of Philip 
and Magdalena Newcomer Galley. He was born June 12, 1819, in Tyrone 
township, Fayette Co., Pa., on the farm then owned by his father, and on which 
is now located Morgan Station of the B. & O. R. R. 

When he was two years old the family moved to Franklin township on 
the south side of the Youghiogheny River. This beautiful homestead, com- 
prising first and second bottoms, and washed by the waters of the "Dare Devil 
Yough," was his home from that time until his death, Dec. 2, 1895. 

His education was obtained in the common schools, and many were the 
stories he told us children of the days when he went to school. At first over 
the river in Tyrone township, where the road — which was only a path — ran 
through the forest and was marked by blazed trees. Then on through the 
years until the last term was held in the old Methodist Church building at 
East Liberty. The branches taught and the methods used in governing the 
scholars differed widely from the way schools are conducted these days, but 
with all the lack of text books and needed helps, through his fondness for 
learning and his energy and perseverance he became a well read man at an 
early age, and all through life this desire for knowledge remained, and re- 
sulted in the acquisition of a better library than was common among the 
farmers of his day. 

A friend to education, he was always interested in schools and colleges 
and the cause of education was helped by his gifts of money and valuable 
books to the libraries. The teacher was a welcome guest, and for the scholars 
he had kind words, or a funny incident to relate; and while he tested their 
progress by questioning them about their studies, or proposing examples for 
them to solve, he rewarded them by taking them sled riding or asking them 
to his home for an evening's entertainment. As a farmer he was successful in 
his occupation; he sought out new inventions and tried new processes, and 
honored his calling as the oldest and most useful and necessary in the world. 

In business matters he was thoroughly honest and upright. He never 
amassed great riches, but left a competence to his family unsmirched by trick- 
ery or "graft." An independent thinker on all subjects, and not slow to express 
his opinions, he naturally met with opposition and no doubt made enemies. In 
politics, an uncompromising Democrat of the "old school," he was always 
ready to defend the principles of his party, and to show up the faults and fail- 
ures of the opposite side. He filled different local offices creditably, and was 
elected to the Legislature in 1858; was again nominated in 1859, but was de- 
feated in the general election. Socially inclined, his home was the gathering 
place for many congenial spirits, comprising men of the learned professions, 
the merchant, the mechanic or the farmer who tilled the soil, rich or poor, they 
all met on an equality, alike welcome by the host, and the best in them was 
brought out by his tact and kindness. 

A faithful friend and safe counsellor, his friendship was valued and his 
advice sought. The needy student or the poorly paid pastor found in him a 
benefactor who gave of his means freely and in such a kind way that it was 
not felt to be a charity but a gift from a loving hand. A kind and affectionate 
husband and father, firm in his government, reasonable in his demands, he ex- 
pected obedience on the part of his children, and was rewarded by their re- 
spect and love. 

For many years a member of the Cumberland Presbyterian Church, late 
in life he changed his views, and connected himself with the Disciples of Christ, 
and was soon chosen elder, in which relation he stood while he lived, main- 
taining a consistent Christian life and dying left a good example to his family, 
friends and neighbors. 

In the words of another: "In public as in private life, his record was clean. 

82 



He read much and talked well on all subjects of general interest. He wa; 
honest and honorable in all things — a lover and defender of the truth 
times." 

He was married at the age of 28 years to Ruth Freeman, daughter o 
mund Freeman, of Franklin township, Fayette Co., Pa., who was in 
sense of the word a "help meet," filling with dignity and honor to hersel 
family all the relations of life. To them were born nine children — three 
and six daughters. 




THE HENRY GALEEY HOMEvSTEAD. 

"-•'Elizabeth Caroline Galley married Samuel Luce Oct. 28, i 

ISSUE. 



935 J. Harry Luce 

936 Frank Luce 

937 Anna May Luce 

938 Kmma Dora Luce 

939 Whitcsette W. Luce 

940 Cliarles Luce 

941 Maude Luce 

942 Olphra Luce 

943 Rente Luce 

944 Ruth Etta Luce 



Born 

6. 5. 1869 

10. 26. 1870 

6. 26. 1872 
9. 6. 1874 
9. 23. 1876 
9. 25. 1878 

7. 26. 1880 
9. 3. 1882 

11. 29. 188.5 
1. 31. 1888 

83 



Died 



1. 30. 1881 



^'•'•'"J. Harry Luce married Emma Porter Apr. 21, 1897. 

ISSUE. 

l!urn Died 

945 1. 1 Moync Luce 1. 8. 1900 7. 20. 1900 

946 Jcannctto Luce 6. i;3. 190:5 



!t::s 



Emma Dora Luce married J. W. Piersol Oct. 19, 1899. 

ISSUE. 

947 Helen Kutli Piersol 8. 7. 1900 

948 Cortrudo Adalyn Piersol 3. 21. 190:? 

949 Seville Piersol 11. 2G. 1904 

'•'^'Maude Luce married R. G. Stevens June 19, 1902. 

ISSUE. 

Born 

950 Robert G. Stevens 6. 26. 1905 

Anna Luce married Rev. Frances Aug. 7, 1907. 

NO ISSUE. 



•'-^Allen Galley married Isabelle Gallatin Dec. 19, 1872. 

ISSUE. 

Born 
951 Arlenia Galley 11. 13. 1873 

052 Samuel Galley 12. 11. 1875 

953 Ruth Galley 12. 14. 1877 

954 Henry Galley 11. 20. 1883 

955 Odessa Galley 8. 14. 1886 

(Twins) 

956 Clarissa Galley 8. 14. 1886 

957 Freeman Galley 11. 1. ISSO 

958 Irene Galley 5. 17. 1S94 

••■''•"•Ruth Galley married Howard Adams Dec. 12, 1900. 

ISSUE. 

Horn 

959 John X. Adams 1. 30. 1902 

960 Jane Isabelle Adams ll 11. I9()ii 

"•■"'Sabina G. Galley married O. F. Arnold Sep. 28, 1883. 

ISSUE. 

r.Kiii Died 

961 Carl l-ji^etie .Arnold 7. 19. 1883 
362 .Mary I-'.mnia .Arnold 3. 18. 1885 

84 



963 SanuK'l M.iynard Arnold 

964 Orton l'*risl)e'c Anu)ld 

965 Rutli (^.allcy Arnold 
967 Sabina Jane Arnold 

966 Florence Ruby Arnold 



1:1. 


19 


188n 


9. 


20 


1890 


5. 


VA 


189:! 


o 


?.-A 


189{) 


10. 


19 


3 897 



n. J 4. 189G 



'"■'J. K. Ewing Galley married Maggie Foster Oct. 22, 1899. 



969 William Kcinu^dy Gall 

970 Henrietta Galley 

971 Mary Belle Galley 

972 Allen Quitman Galley 



ev 



10. 

12. 

11. 

4. 



ISSUE. 

Horn 
!■■>. 189G 
15. 189:5 
26. 1897 
18. 1900 



Died 



''■^-Kate Freeman Galley married H. D. Shallenberger Oct. 18, 1891. 



ISSUE. 



Bom 


16. 


189'> 


19. 


1894 


27. 


1896 


17. 


1898 





1903 



Died 
2. 7. 1903 



J73 Eugene Shallenberger 6. 

974 Mavme Ruth Shallenberger 3. 
J75 H. D. Shallenberger 1. 

)76 Philip Galley Shallenberger 3. 
J77 Henry Reed Shallenberger 5. 



■'•"Belle N. Galley married (ist) W. N. Stahl Aug. 19, 1889. 

NO ISSUE. 

•'•"^•'Belle N. Galley married (2d) T. J. Sleeman June, 1906. 




85 



GALLEY FAMILY REUNION. 

1897. 



A Notable Social Event at Dickerson Run. 



Two Hundred Forty-seven of the Seven Hundred Forty Descendan 
of Philip and Magdalena Galley Have a Delightful Gathering. 



(From the "News Standard" of Uniontown, Pa.) 

One of the most notable family reunions ever held in Fayet 
County was that of the descendants of Philip Galley, in the gro 
on the Youghiogheny River, on the old Galley homestead, at Dick< 
son Run, September 2 and 3, 1897. This reunion was projected by t 
late Henry Galley, who died before realizing the hope of seeing 1; 
numerous relatives assembled together, but his plans were carri 
out by his daughter. Miss Henrietta, who has worked untiringly f 
the success of the reunion just held. 

Thursday, the first day, was for the family alone, while the se 
ond day was open to the friends and general public. At 9 o'clo 
Thursday, the day being perfect, two hundred fifty of the descen 
ants of Philip Galley were present, when the following programr 
was announced: Opening song, music conducted by J. C. McClur 
prayer, John Galley; music; address of welcome, Henrietta Galle 
music ; family history, Joseph Oglevee ; original poem, Dr. J. 
Arnold, of Philadelphia, on the "Youghiogheny River" ; music. 

Dinner was then served, from a half-dozen long tables spre 
with the bounties of the season. First, the name of Philip Galley 
oldest son, Peter, was called. Peter is dead, but 68 of his descendar 
were present, and these 68 arose and marched to their seats at t 
table. In like manner the names of all the 11 children were calh 
and their descendants took seats at the tables. Only one of these 11 
Jonathan — was present to answer in person. 

After dinner the day was spent in hearing reminiscences, rea 
ing of letters, impromptu addresses and in a pleasant social way. T 
organization included P. G. Smith, the oldest grandson, as presider 
Henrietta Galley, the youngest granddaughter, secretary; P. 
Oglevee, treasurer. Many pleasant talks were given, the speake 
being from eight States, which were represented as follows: Pen 
sylvania, Ohio, Michigan, Indiana, Illinois, Iowa, Kansas and Col 
rado. 

87 



Supper was served at 5 o'clock, after which the visitors accom- 
panied the resident relatives to their several homes, where they were 
hospitably entertained. 

On Friday the immediate relatives were reinforced by several 
hundred friends, and the second day's exercises began at 9 A. M. 
There was no set programme for this day, but the time was spent in 
impromptu addresses and social diversions. Dinner was served to 
all. and after a most delightful two days' session of festivities, the 
first Galley family reunion was at an end, being in every sense a thor- 
ough success. 

One of the most conspicuous features was the large family tree 
painted upon canvas by the brothers O. C. and C. M. Galley, carriage 
manufacturers of Mt. Pleasant. This was a huge trunk with 11 large 
limbs, each representing one of the children of Philip Galley, and on 
each of these limbs were smaller branches representing each of the 
children's children, etc., with name written on each limb and branch. 
Another feature was a large bulletin board containing photos of the 
II children and all their descendants whose pictures were obtainable, 
with names written below them. These pictures were collected and 
arranged by Mrs. Mary Bute. 

The oldest descendant present was Jonathan Galley, and the 
youngest was Florence Chamberlain, of Washington County, a tiny 
little Miss, who was not named until she arrived at the reunion. 

There is no picture in existence of Philip Galley. The accom- 
panying cuts of Samuel and Jonathan Galley, only surviving children 
of Philip, are made from photos kindly furnished the News Standard 
by Mrs. T. J. Smith, of Mt. Vernon avenue, a daughter of Jonathan 
Galley. 

The following resolutions were unanimously adopted before the 
adjournment : 

1. That we duly appreciate the untiring efforts of Miss Henrietta 
Galley, P. G. Oglevee, P. G. Smith and others who contributed to 
make our sojourn so enjoyable and pleasant. 

2. That we feel grateful to the Galley boys of Mt. Pleasant for 
their artistic execution of the family tree. 

3. That we are highly gratified in the photographic collection 
by Mrs. Mary Bute in its helpful design and arrangement. 



88 



ADDRESS OF WELCOME. 

By Miss Henrietta Galley. 

Dear Friends : — I feel that I am favored in being chosen to gree 
you on this occasion. I surely consider it a mark of confidence, an 
fully realize the important task that has been assigned me. 

I am sure it is not because of any superior ability that I was th 
one selected to make the Address of Welcome, and if I do not com 
up to your ?.tandard of eloquence, my message, at least, is one of peac 
and friendly intercourse. Something more than a year ago, when 
few of the friends met for the purpose of considering the questio 
of a reunion it was with some hesitancy as to whether such an undei 
taking would prove a success. The weeks and months flew by i 
rapid succession, and as the time drew nearer and nearer, the interej 
and willingness manifested by each one to make this a happy mee 
ing increased. As we come together to-day in this beautiful grov 
that has stood the storms of ages and the blasts of many winters, an 
where in childhood days I spent many happy hours, I, the youngei 
grandchild of the family so well known, and in whose name th: 
reunion is called, have the honor to bid you welcome. More than 
century ago Philip Galley, an only child, settled in this little valle; 
along the banks of the beautiful Youghiogheny River. There ai 
now m.cre than six hundred of his descendants scattered from th 
storm-tossed shores of the Atlantic to the peaceful shores of th 
Pacific ; from the snow-clad regions of the North to the balmy clime 
of the South. Quite a number of those descendants has met hei 
to-day to participate in this reunion, and we, the relatives of the Eas 
extend to you of the North, the South and West a hearty welcom 
We have met for the purpose of renewing old acquaintances, formin 
new ones and strengthening the ties of relationship, and while mar 
of us meet for the first time, and feel almost like strangers, let forma 
ity be put aside and let us meet as one family, each one striving i 
make the day pleasant for some one else. Then in the years to con 
we shall only have happy memories of the first Galley Reunion. 

In this company of relatives I find all ages represented. To tho! 

whose locks are silvery, white, and whose shoulders are bending b 

neath the burden of many years, we bid you welcome. May th 

meeting with relatives be a joyous one to you. To those who ha^ 

reached the summit of life and are just beginning the descent, v 

bid you welcome and wish you the fullest enjoyment and large 

measure of social profit. To the young, to those related by ties > 

marriage, one and all, we bid you welcome, thrice welcome to th 

reunion, and if we are not permitted to meet as one family agai 

may we take part in that reunion beyond the grave, where the fait 

ful shall shine as the stars and where home circles are as eternal : 

the hills in sight. 

89 



REUNION POEM 

By Dr. J. O. Arnold. 



YOUGHIOGHENY RIVER. 



Down froui voiiilcr bhic old inouiitalus, 
Kt'il liv coiiiitU'ss hulililiiiK fountains, 

I'ouies a wlndiuK. niKjiod stream; 
Yoii mav si-e it if you l^Mik tliere. 
Kllipliiij; in the moruinj; sunglare 

With its ever broken gleam. 

•Tls no stream of great dimensions, 
l.avs no claim l>.v loud i)reten8lous 

To fxalteil pla'ce in fame; 
Yet. 'tis true, it has a hist'ry 
Kieh in legendary niyst'ry 

Like its quaint, old Indian name. 

Far along vim forest hillside. 

Where the'fox and fleet-foot deer glide. 

And the Uedman onee roamed free, 
You will flnil the waters rising, 
That ere long this stream comprising, 

Here flow past us to the sea. 

Small at first, and rough Its edges. 
Tumbling over rocks and ledges, 

Down its broken mountain course, 
Till you see Its size increasing — 
See as well its turmoil ceasing 

As It gathers strength and force. 

Onward there you see it coming, 
Hear Its peaceful waters bummlug 

Through the quiet, shady dale; 
But again, Its course is broken, 
And its murmurings loud spukeu, 

p;cho down the rocky vale. 

Tlii^ Is where the ceaseless roaring 
of its waters overpouring 

I'llls the air for many a mile; 
And the Indian gave It naming, 
Ah he stood in awe exclaiming, 

"Heautiful falls— Ohio pyle." 

Down, on down the valley winding, 
Soon this stream its course is tlnding 

'.Moiig the thicker haunts of men; 
Falls and mountains left behind It, 
Now no longer ilo you llnd It 

Kuuninx wild and free again. 

For ns onward still you trace It 
On the rugged bjinks that face It 

Are the towns and busy mills 
That in early days were" started 
Uy our fathi-rs long departed 

From this land their mem'ry Alls. 

Many changes Time has wrought here 
Mnce the days when first men sought here 

To estabjlsli famil.v honn-s: 
Then no mines, or ndlls, or bridges, 
Marred the bejiuty of thest," ridges. 

Or the stream that 'mong them comes. 



And this spot where we assemble 
Does but little, now, resemble 

What it was in days gone by; 
Yet it still has clusfring 'round it 
Childhood scenes that long have bouud it 

To our hearts with fondest tie. 

Was It not right here below vou 
Sire and grandslre tried to show you 

How to fish in yonder hole? 
How Impatiently you angled 
With the little line that dangled 

From your crooked home-made pole! 

But I venture here to tell you 
Truer pleasures ne'er befef vou 

Since this "tackle" you forsook. 
Than the joy that was afforded 
When at last you were rewarded 

By a fish upon that hook. 

Y'ou who gather in reunion. 
And together hold communion 

With the days of long ago, 
Do you not recall with pleasure 
How in youthful days of leisure 

On this stream you learned to row? 

How you paddled bravely yonder, 
Till your friends began to wonder 

If you'd reach the other shore; 
Or, Instead, would be swept downward 
By the current floating onward. 

To return to them no more. 

Ah, since then you learned to paddle 
Where the waves give greater battle 

Than you ever fought with there; 
And the fears that then beset you 
Were as naught to those that luet you 

On life's greater thoroughfare. 

Thus the Youghlogheny River. 
Flowing onward, flowing ever. 

From the mountains to the sea, 
Has so much we love about it 
That this meeting here without it 

Would not half so homelike be. 

Oh. thou river of our childhood, 
I'Mowing down fri>in yonder wildwood, 

I'ast our meeting place today: 
Thou art emblem in thy fiowing 
Of another stream that's going 

Swift from youth to age away. 

Stream of human life .•iiid motion, 
Borne by Time toward that ocean 

Where no bounds of time are known. 
Thou, in passing, dost remind us 
How we iiass and leave behind us 

Half the pleasures life has shown. 



90 



speak to us. thou silent I'iver, 
Tell us when, or whether ever 

Thou wilt end thy IlowiuK here? 
Tell us. also, If thou knowest 
Whither now our life str(>iini >;oest 

Swiftly ou from year to year? 

Shall we find, as thou art finding. 
That our course is ever winding. 

Ever changing as we goV 
Shall the years of time before us 
Bring no wrecks or troubles o'er us 

To disturb life's fitful (low? 

i May the Ood w 

And who holds 

In the hollow 
ftulde our life-s 
Safely back to 

Of the waters 



Thou art voiceless, yet thou tellest 
Unto him who o'er theo dwellest 

In remembrance of the pMst, 
Much to set <iur sotils relleciiug — 
Much to guide us In directing 

AVherc! life's stream shall end at last. 

Oh, may we from out thy flowing 

Take some lesson worth the knowing — 

Some inspiring thought to-day 
That shall make each heart here lighter 
And shall helji to make life brighter 

As we pass niion our way. 



ho guides thy motion, 
thee, like the ocean, 
of his hand, 

tre.'im. oh thou river. 

Him, the Giver 
and the land. 




91 




I'AMiLv tri-;e. 

As Ivxhibited at the- First Reunion, 1897. 



92 






*.'*?»• " .•.!• 






-:^fS:f-: 



•**«^,?» 






■ ^ :-;i!!^..5^' 




^^:'0^n^ 









THE TEN YEARS INTERVAL 

In the ten years interval between this first reunion just described 
and the second general reunion held August 28, 1907, the organiza- 
tion, with P. G. Smith, president, Henrietta Galley, secretary, and 
P. G. Oglevee, treasurer, was maintained and a meeting held in the 
"reunion grove" on the last Wednesday in August each year. 

These annual meetings of the family were only smaller in num- 
bers than the "big reunion" — they lacked nothing in enthusiasm and 
pleasure for those who attended from year to year. Nor was the at- 
tendance small. Members of the family gathered from the home 
neighborhood, Fayette, and adjoining counties, and on nearly every 
occasion there were some present from the Western States, who made 
it a point, if visiting in the East, to be here at the time of the family 
meeting. There was always a big dinner in the grove and a regular 
old-fashioned picnic highly enjoyed by all v/ho attended. Songs, reci- 
tations, after-dinner speeches, stories, reminiscences and poetry for 
the occasion usually m.ade up the programme. For several years past 
the never-failing post prandial poet for these happy occasions has 
been Mr. Newton Shallenberger, whose warm-hearted interest and 
faithful attendance on all these meetings have contributed no small 
amount to their success from year to year. 

A sad. but quite natural thing occurred in the latter part of the 
decade, namely, the necessity for changing the meeting place from 
the beautiful grove on the little plateau overlooking the river to a 
spot farther away, on what is now the Ewing Galley farm, where the 
last two meetings have been held. The poetic expression of Oliver 
Wendell Holmes, that "there is nothing that keeps its youth, so far 
as I know, but a tree and truth," seemed to lose out in part, at least, 
when applied to this grove that had been intended and expected to 
remain many yecrs as a hospitable shelter for picnics and family 
gatherings. 

The truth that "all must grow old and die" kept its youth, while 
in this instance, at least, the tree did not, for year after year, as the 
family came together they noticed the aging and dying of the stately 
old oaks, until finally there were not enough left in the available part 
of the grove to furnish suitable shelter, and the old camping ground 
had to be deserted. The remainder of the trees were cut and sawed 
into lumber, and the little town that had grown up near by extended 
its boundaries out over the site and built houses on the very spot made 
memorable by the great reunion of ten years ago and by the several 
happy gatherings since. 

94 



All this change within a single decade. But this is not all. Th 
death and destruction of a beautiful grove is sad enough indeed i: 
this day when "God's first temples" have so completely vanished fror 
the land. But sadder still is the fact that as the family gathered i; 
reunion from year to year age and death invaded its ranks also, am 
one after another of the familiar faces was missed, until at the en 
of ten years, when the roll of those present at the first reunion wa 
called, it was found that at least twenty-one out of the 280 had gon 
to answer "when the roll is called up yonder." 

These were in the Peter Galley family eight, as follows: Vane 
Gilmore, Martha Newcomer, Henry Galley, Mrs. Joseph Beatty, Mi 
and Mrs. John Galley, Mr. and Mrs. D. C. Chamberlain; in the Davii 
Galley family four, Arba Shallenberger, Nellie Shallenberger, Mrs 
Henry Galley, David Galley; in the Jonathan Galley family two, Mi 
and Mrs. Jonathan Galley; in the Barbara Galley Snyder family one 
Mrs. John Snyder; in the Abraham Galley family five, Eli Galley, A 
M. Galley, Walter Galley, Mary Galley, Mrs. Mary Galley; in th. 
Henry Galley family one, Eugene Shallenberger. 



A letter of greeting from the Secretary to the second reunioi 
best sums up these family changes in the ten years and contains othei 
items of interest that make it worth recording in this connection: 

Spokane, Wash., Aug. 28, 1907. 
Dear Friends and Relatives : — 

I wish I were with you to-day, as I was ten years ago, to giv< 
you all a hearty handshake and join in the pleasures of our seconc 
reunion. As I have found it impossible to be present, I send a wore 
of greeting from Spokane, wishing you all a very happy day. Ii 
looking with my mind's eye over this great family gathered from th< 
four points of our broad land, I see many changes. Firstly, I se< 
Dan Cupid has been shooting his arrows right and left and has piercec 
the hearts of fortiy who attended our first reunion. The Stork, too, has 
not been idle, and by his visits forty or more have been added to oui 
number. 

While these hearts have been made glad, others have been sad- 

I dened by the Grim Reaper, who is ever reminding us that life is bui 
a few short years, and has gathered home twenty-one of our loved 
ones. 

The last year, as many of you know, I have been struggling to 
gather data for our family history. This, while it was a pleasure, and 
in some instances real amusing, was also accompanied with many 
difficulties and disappointments in not receiving prompt replies and 
full information. My patience, however, did not tire, and I have 

: exhausted every resource, even to the Revolutionary War records, 

(See page 16.) 

95 



I find no less than 60 of Philip Galley's descendants who have 
had from six to seventeen children. I think this record full enough 
to satisfy even the patriotism of Teddy Roosevelt, and I suggest that 
a copy of the history be sent to the President, with the compliments 
of the Galley Family! Since Spokane is ranking among the cities 
of National Conventions, I think I will arrange with the "Boosters' 
Club" to have the next Galley Reunion in this city. 

Again wishing I could be with you on this happy day, I am, 

Sincerely, 

HENRIETTA GALLEY. 




96 



THE SECOND REUNION— 1907. , 

(Extract from a local newspaper report of the ccca-.icn.) | 

The tenth Annual and second General Reunion cf the Galley 
Family was held in a grove near the old homestead at Dickerson 
Run, yesterday (August 23, 1907). j 

Members of the family from all parts of the country were pres- 
ent to the number cf 250 or mere, and no doubt many were kept away 
by the threatening weather in the morning. 

The following very interesting programme was carried out, not, 
however, until after all had partaken of a most sumptuous dinner, 
which has always been one of the features of these occasions : 

The family, all seated around one large table, sang "All Hail the 
Power cf Jesus' Name." The president, P. G. Smith, then made a 
ew introductory rem^arks, and called upon Mr. Orin Galley, of Mt. 
leasant, vAio made the address of welcome. This was responded 
o by J. D. Newcomer, of Iowa. After more vocal music there was 
[a roll call of those present at the first reunion, which had been care- 
ully prepared by the secretary ten years ago. Many changes were 
oted in that tim.e. Mr. Newton Shallenberger, of Pt. Marion, read 
an original poem prepared for the occasion. "The Acquired Relation- 
ship" branch of the family was the theme entertainingly discussed 
Dy E. D. Miller, Esq., of Uniontown. 

Dr. J. O. Arnold, of Philadelphia, told all about the "Book of 
jalley," which he, with Henrietta Galley, is getting ready for the 
publishers. 

This history was begun twenty years ago by the late Henry 
jalley, but never was finished. Dr. Arnold has been in Fayette 
;jounty for the last month gathering material and arranging for the 
tublication of the bock. In addition to containing sketches of the 
leven children of Philip Galley and a complete family record of their 
escendants, it will have pictures of all their old homesteads obtain- 
ble and much local history. 

Im.promptu speeches, stories, etc., finished up the programme. 
i feature of this, as cf the fcrm.er big reunion, was the taking of a 
roup photograph by Springer, of Scottdale. 
Among those present from a distance were: 

Henry Galley and Emmett Beal, California; Charles Galley, 
ansas; E. J. McFarland and wife, Iowa; J. D. Newcomer, Iowa; 
lary Arnold, Nebraska; T. J. Smith and wife, Mrs. McLain and 
lughter and Miss Walters, Ohio; Mrs. William Devall. Missouri; 
!ra Gilmore, Butler, Pa.; Misses Sarah and Magdalena Galley, Mar- 
nsburg. Pa.; Dr. J. O. Arnold, wife and daughter, Philadelphia. Be- 
des these, there were relatives present from all over Fayette and 
ijoining counties. Many old residents of the neighborhood were 
iso present as guests of the fam.ily. 

97 



Roll of Those Present at the First Reunion. 

The Peter Galley Family, 66. 

Mr. John Rohison, New llavcn. Pa. 

Mrs. Jolm Kohison, New llaven. Pa. 

Mis.s Rhocla KoImsoii, New llaven. Pa. 

Mr. William Rohisun, New llaven, Pa. 

Mrs. William Robi^-on, New llaven, Pa. 

Mi.-s Grace Ruhison, New llaven, Pa. 

Miss Ruth Robison, New llaven. Pa. 

Mrs. Mary Brashear, New llaven. Pa. 

Miss Fannie Brashear, New Haven, Pa. 

Mr. Speck Brashear, New Haven, Pa. 

*Mr. Vance Gilmore, Connellsville, Pa. 

Mr. Ora Gilmore, Petrolia, Pa. 

Mrs. Ora Gilmore, Petrolia. Pa. 

*Mrs. Martha Newcomer, Toledo, Iowa. 

Mr. J. D. Newcomer, Eldora, Iowa. 

Mr. U. D. Newcomer, Garwin, Iowa. 

Mrs. U. D. Newcomer, Garwin, Iowa. 

Miss Minnie Newcomer, Garwin, Iowa. 

Mr. \V. W. Galley, Cortland, Ohio. 

Mrs. W. W. Galley, Corthind, Ohio. 

Miss Martha Galley, Hiram, Ohio. 

Mr. C. P. Galley, Morovia, Iowa. 

*Mr. Henry Galley. . 1419 Crocker St., Des Moines, Iowa. 

Mrs. Henry Galley. 1419 Crocker St., Des Moines. Iowa. 

Mr. Joseph McFadden, Good Hope, 111. 

Miss Olive IMcFadden, Good Hope, 111. 

Mrs. Sarah Rist, Logan St., Denver, Col. 

Mr. C. M. Galley Mt. Pleasant, Pa. 

Mrs. C. M. Galley, Mt. Pleasant. Pa. 

Miss Blanch Galley, Mt. Pleasant, Pa. 

Miss Anna Galley, Mt. Pleasant, Pa. 

Mr. William Galley, Mt. Pleasant. Pa. 

Mrs. William Galley, Mt. Pleasant, Pa. 

Miss Esther Galley, Mt. Pleasant, Pa. 

Mr. Thomas Galley, Mt. Pleasant, Pa. 

Mr. Lawrence Gallev, Mt. Pleasant, Pa. 

Miss Rachel Galley,' Mt. Pleasant, Pa. 

Miss Hattie Galley, Mt. Pleasant, Pa. 

Mr. Orin Galley, Mt. Pleasant, Pa. 

Mr. George Galley, ]\It. Pleasant, Pa. 

Mrs. George Galley, Mt. Pleasant, Pa. 

Miss Cleora Galley, Mt. Pleasant. Pa. 

Mrs. Harriet Galley, Mt. Pleasant. Pa. 

Mr. Joseph Beatty, Indianapolis. Ind. 

Mrs. Joseph Beatty, Indianapolis. Ind. 

Mr. John Gallc}', Librarj-, Pa. 

Mrs. John Galley, Library. Pa. 



*Died in the ten j-cars intcrv;il between the first and the second reunion. 



Mr. V 
Mr- C 
M^ ; 
M^5 : 
M^ : 
Miss 
Mr- F 



Mi&? Edna. C 



•ev. 



-V. 



Librarr. P^ 

Librarsr. Pjl 

l^Gknurw. traL. 

liVrrrr. Pa. 

-T- Pa- 

-T. Pa- 

-. Pi. 

-V. Pi. 



Mr- H_ . 
Mr. Cfiftoo - 
Mr. Otrk Nr 
Mrs- Cla-t : 
Mrs- L- S- Browia. 



McKe^esfsoft. Pi. 

Ur — 7 

Ur ^ - , 

Fort vx»iuis5:?- %I«^ 



>. 27- 



Mr. Jajses Bo^d. 
Mrs- Jasies 5 ' 



l.:! 


Ksrrsa^. 


C^ 


Ksn^a-^ 


C:- 


Pa. 



M^5 



Mr=. P. a S: 



Mrs. 



Pa. 
Pa- 



Tbe Joisi Galley 



Morgan GsHey, 



Ron. Pa. 



!%■ 



The Elizabeth Gaiiey Oglevee Family, S. 



Mr. Joseph Oglevee, 
Mr. P. G. Og'evee, 
Mrs. P. G. Oglevee, 
Mr. Oliver Oglevee, 
Mr. Thomas E. Oglevee, 
Miss Bessie Oglevee, 
Miss Lulu Oglevee. 
Mr. N. D. :'^ -. 
Mrs. X. D. . e, 

Mr. Carendon McCIure. 
Miss Xell Rea McQure, 
Mr. Simpson McQure, 
Mrs. John Oglevee. 
Mr. A. C. Oglevee. 
Miss Fannie Oglevee. 
Mr. Earl Oglevee. 
Mrs. Elizabeth Bute. 
Mrs. Anna Middlesworth. 
Dr. J. O. Arnold. 
Mr. Emmerson Arnold, 
Mr. Leroy Arnold. 
Miss Anna Arnold, 
Mr. Jesse Oglevee. 



L. Pa- 
-.-., Pa- 

-r.. P^ 
-_ Pa. 
•-_ Pa. 
-n. P^ 



Dickers^.-. R 

Diclcer&^vr. R 

Dickers-. R 

Dickers r. R 

Dickers^:,- R 

Dickersor. R 

Dickers^,- R-r„ Pa. 

Dickers..-: Rrr_ ?5u 

Dickers':- ? r- Pa. 

Dickers Pa. 

Dickers Pa. 

Dickers Ps^ 

Xe«^ " Pa. 

Xe^- . Pa. 
Xew Haven, Pa. 

y - ^ - Pa. 

L - - -^5 
C 

Vanderbflt. Pa. 



V 



x'a. 



.^^ix Pa. 



Xew ziaven. Pa. 



The David 



*Mr. Arba Shallenb-rrarer. 

Mr. Xewton 5h "?cr. 

Mrs. XewTon 51: :,:rrger. 

*Mi55 Xellie ShaUeriberaer. 

Mr. Stahl 5'- " ' rrser. 

Mr. Wesrle: :. 

Mrs. Westlev Gaiiev. 

Mr. David Galley. 

Mr. Henrv Gallev, 
'Mrs. Heni-v- Gallev. 
■Mr. David' Galley, 

Mrs. Jennie McFarland. 

Mr. William Enos. 

Mr. Jacob Xewmyer. 

Mrs. Jacob Xewmyer. 

Mr. Wilford X^ewmyer. 

Miss Sadie Xevrmyer. 

Mr. Clark Cotrom. 

Mr. Robert Cortom, 

Mr. Clarence Corioni, 

Mr. Orbin OXesl 

Mrs. Orbin OXeaL 

Miss Bessie OXeal, 
[Mr. Frsnk Coder. 

Mrs. Frank Co-der. 
JMiss Cora Chain. 
LMr. William Chain. 
|Mis5 Lulu Coder, 



Galley .- irr..!/, 28 



Da.ws<;>n. Ps 
r - ' Ps 



Cen:- 
Star . 

Star ; 
Star 



Centreville. Iowa. 

~ ... _^ 

~a_ 
—a. 
r. ?a- 
-1. Pa- 
n. Pa. 
Siar n. Pa. 

S-.ir n. Pa. 

Siar n. Pa. 

Star . n Pa- 

Star 
Mt. ? 

Mt. Pleasant. Pa. 
^T. ---- ,-_- p-^ 

>' ^a 

Owe 

Broa _ : : . 1 ^ 

Brosd Ford- Pa. 

F'- - = - ^- 



101 



The Jonathan Galley Family, 27. 



*Mr. Jonathan Galley, 
*Mrs. Jonatiian Gailej', 

Mr. Jacob Galley, 

Mrs. Jacob Galley, 

Miss Sarali Galley, 

Miss Mapdalcna Galley, 

Miss Addie Galley. 

Miss Florence Gallej', 

Mrs. Joseph Real, 

Mr. Enimct Heal, 

Mr. T. J. Smith. 

Mrs. T. J. Smith, 

Mr. .Allen Walters, 

Mrs. .-Mien Walters. 

Mr. Jonatiian Walters, 

Mr. Allen Ray Walters. 

Miss Malinda M. Walters, 

Mr. Joseph McClain, 

Mrs. Josepli McClain, 

Mr. Samuel Cover, 

Mrs. Samuel Cover, 

Mr. Isaiah Cover. 

Miss Clara Cover, 

Miss Anna Cover, 

Mrs. Katherine Renshaw, 

Mr. Joseph Cover. 

Mrs. Joseph Cover, 



McClellandtown, Pa. 
McClellandtown, Pa. 
McClellandtown, Pa. 
McClellandtown, Pa. 
McClellandtown, Pa. 
McClellandtown, Pa. 
McClellandtown, Pa. 
McClellandtown, Pa. 
Uniontown, Pa. 
Uniontown, Pa. 
Uniontown, Pa. 
Uniontown, Pa. 
Masontown, Pa. 
Masontown, Pa. 
Masontown, Pa. 
Masontown, Pa. 
Alasontown, Pa. 
.Aurelia, Iowa. 
Aurelia, Iowa. 
Pittsburgh, Pa. 
Pittsburgh, Pa. 
New Geneva, Pa. 
New Geneva, Pa. 
New Geneva, Pa. 
New Geneva, Pa. 
New Geneva, Pa. 
New Geneva, Pa. 



The Barbara Galley Snyder Family, 22. 



Mr. David Snyder, 
Mr. John Snyder, 
^Mrs. John Snyder, 
Mr. Clark vSnyder. 
Mr. Jesse Snyder. 
Mr. Frank Snyder, 
Miss Dianna Snyder, 
Miss Anna K. Snyder, 
Mr. Joel Evans, 
Mrs. Joel Evans, 
Mr. Davifl Junk, 
Mrs. David Junk, 
Mr. Samuel Junk, 
Miss Ella Junk, 
Miss Mary Junk, 
Miss Lottie Junk, 
Dr. F. R. McGrcw. 
Mrs. I'". R. McGrew, 
Miss Grace McGrcw, 
Miss Hazel McGrew, 
Miss Mattie McGrcw, 
Miss Dale McGrew. 



Vanderbilt, Pa. 
Vanderbilt, Pa. 
Vanderbilt, Pa. 
Vanderbilt, Pa. 
Vanderbilt, Pa. 
Vanderbilt, Pa. 
Vanderbilt, Pa. 
Vanderbilt, Pa. 
Scenery Hill, Pa. 
Scenery Hill, Pa. 
Juniattavillc, Pa. 
Juniattavillc, Pa. 
Juniattavillc, Pa. 
Juniatt.iville, Pa. 
Juniattavillc, Pa. 
Juniattavillc, Pa. 
Carnegie, Pa. 
Carnegie, Pa. 
Carnegie, Pa. 
Carnegie, Pa. 
Carnegie, Pa. 
Carnegie, Pa. 



102 



The Abraham Galley Family, 21. 



*Mr. Kli Galley, 

Mrs. EH Galloy. 

Mr. Frank Galley, 

Mr. Joseph Taylor, 

Mrs. Joseph Taylor, 
*Mr. A. M. Clalley. 

Mrs. A. M. Galley, 

Mr. Frank Galley, 
*Mr. Walter Galley, 

Mr. Charles Galley, 

Miss Blaneh Galley, 

Miss Alice Galley. 

Mr. M. L. Galley, 

Mrs. M. L. Galley. 

Miss Florence Galley, 
*Miss Mary Galley, 

Mr. John Galley, 
*Mrs. Mary Galley, 
" Miss Ethel Galley, 

Miss Araminta C. Galley, 



Dickerson Run, Pa 


Dickerson Run, Pa 


Dickerson Run, Pa 


Fatten. Pa. 




Patton. Pa. 




Scottdale, Pa. 




Scottdale, Pa. 




Scottdale, Pa. 




Scottdale, Pa. 




Scottdale. Pa. 




Scottdale, Pa. 




Scottdale, Pa. 




Scottdale, Pa. 




Scottdale, Pa. 




Scottdale, Pa. 




Scottdale, Pa. 




Scottdale, Pa. 




Mt. Pleasant, 


Pa. 


Mt. Pleasant, 


Pa. 


Mt. Pleasant, 


Pa. 



The Henry 

Mr. Samuel Luce, 
Mrs. Samuel Luce, 
Mr. Frank Luce, 
Mr. Whitsette Luce, 
Mr. Olphra Luce, 
^Ir. Rente Luce. 
]Miss Anna Luce, 
]\liss Maude Luce, 
Miss Ruth Luce, 
Mr. Harry Luce, 
^Irs. Harry Luce. 
Mr. Allen Galley. 
Mrs. Allen Galley, 
^Ir. Samuel Galley, 
Mr. Henry Galley. 
Mr. Freeman Galley, 
]^Iiss Lema Galley, 
Miss Ruth Galley, 
Miss Irene Galley, 
Mr. Ewing Galley, 
Mrs. E\ying Galley, 
Mr. William Galley, 
Miss Etta Galley, 
Miss Emma Galley, 
Miss Henrietta Galley, 
Mr. H. D. Shallenbe'rger, 
Mrs. H. D. Shallenberger, 
'•'Mr. Eugene Shallenberger, 
Miss Mayme Ruth Shallenberger, 
Mr. W. N. Stahl. 
Mrs. W. N. Stahl, 



Galley Family, 31 

Perryopolis, Pa. 
Perryopolis, Pa. 
Perryopolis, Pa. 
Perryopolis, Pa. 
Perryopolis, Pa. 
Perryopolis, Pa. 
Perryopolis, Pa. 
Perryopolis, Pa. 
Perryopolis, Pa. 
Banning, Pa. 
Banning, Pa. 
Star Junction, Pa. 
Star Junction, Pa. 
Star Junction, Pa. 
Star Junction, Pa. 
Star Junction, Pa. 
Star Junction, Pa. 
Star Junction, Pa. 
Star Junction, Pa. 
Dickerson Run. Pa. 
Dickerson Run, Pa. 
Dickerson Run, Pa. 
Dickerson Run, Pa. 
Dickerson Run, Pa. 
Dickerson Run, Pa. 
Vanderbilt. Pa. 
Vanderbilt, Pa. 
Vanderbilt, Pa. 
Vanderbilt. Pa. 
Piltsburgli, Pa. 
Pittsburgh. Pa. 

103 




Ipart II 
1F3i8toric Sketcbes 



IN THE 



^ouQh tRcQion 



''^^W^ 




That portion of the rugged and picturesque valley of the "Dare Devil 
Yough" with which we are rpost concerned by virtue of its being the pioneer 
home and subsequent dwelling place of the Galley Family and many of their 
descendants, is located almost wholly in the county of Fayette. 

This county was organized from a part of Westmoreland County in 1783, 
or at the close of the Revolutionary War, and was named in honor of the 
French hero who so nobly came to the aid of the colonists in that war^ the 
Marquis De Lafayette, who on the occasion of his tour of America in 1824-25, 
spent several days as the honored guest of the county that bears his name. 

Not only is Fayette one of the richest and most widely diversified counties 
in the State, in its productions, surface, soil and scenery, but it also includes 
within its boundaries some of the most interesting historic spots in the State 
or nation. 

A century and a half ago when the great European rivals, England and 
France, contended for dominion over the vast region watered by the head- 
streams of the Ohio, the latter nation claimed the summit of Laurel Hill as her 
eastern boundary; and in the strife which followed — the contest by the issue of 
which that claim was extinguished forever — it was in the ravines and on the 
hillsides and meadows lying between the Youghiogheny and Monongahela Riv- 
ers that the forces marching respectively under the Bourbon lilies and the cross 
of St. George first met in actual shock of arms; it was the soil now of Fayette 
County which drank the first blood spilled in that memorable conflict. 

It was here within what is now Fayette County that George Washington 
fought his first battle and here he made his first and last surrender to an enemy. 
Across these hills and valleys and streams the army of the brave Braddock 
marched in pride and confidence to assault the French stronghold at the head 
of the Ohio; and when the survivors of that proud host returned by the same 
route, flying in disorder and panic from the bloody field of the Monongahela, 
it was here that their dauntless leader died of his wounds, and here in the soil 
f Fayette County they buried him. 

While all this is true of the county as a whole, it is equally true that that 
articular part of the county which now engages our attention, is one of the 
ichest sections in natural resources, and in manufacturing industries, as well 
as the most historically interesting region in the county. 

It is situated — this portion of the Yough Valley of which we are speaking — 
in the centre of the most northern part of the county and is made up of all or 
a part of the townships of Upper and Lower Tyrone, Perry, Franklin, Dunbar 
and Connellsville. 

The river which gives name to the region is a typical mountain stream 
hich crosses the line from Maryland at the extreme southeast corner of Fay- 
tte and flowing north forms the eastern boundary of the county for about fif- 
een miles, then turns its course westward, breaks through two great ranges of 
ountains and pursues its winding crooked way for more than forty miles to 

107 



the northwest boundary of the county; thence across Westmoreland to joii 
the Monongahela at McKeesport. 

It is never large, except at the time of the "freshets" and nowhere nav 
igable except in the way that shall be hereinafter described. 

Through most of its course, its channel is narrow and rocky, and its cur 
rent correspondingly rough, rapid and noisy; winding between high mountain 
and tumbling over rocky ledges in such a way as to merit its familiar pseudonyr 
— "Dare-devil Yough." At the well known mountain resort, Ohiopyle, in Stew 
art township, it forms a cataract of considerable size and attractiveness, sur 
rounded by scenery of the wildest and most picturesque nature. The plac 
was named, according to tradition, by an Indian guide who accompanied youn: 
Lieutenant Colonel Washington, then but twenty-three years old, on the oc 
casion of his first expedition with the Virginia troops sent out to retake Fi 
Duquesne in the spring of 1754. 

On the route over the mountains, young Washington with five others lef 
his trcops on the old Nemacolin trail and descended the Yough for some di: 




OlIlol'Vl.l'; l'.\l,I,S.— TIN''. OI.D STi;\VART Mil, I. 

108 



tance in canoes to see if it were navigable, but "voyage and hopes ended ; 
Ohiophyle Falls" — where the Indian as he stood gazing admiringly at the fal 
ing waters, exclaimed "Ohiopyle," meaning "beautiful falls." 

"This is where the ceaseless roaring, 
Of its waters overpouring 
Fills the vale for many a mile; 
And the Indian gave it naming 
As he stood in awe exclaiming: 
'Beautiful Falls!' Ohiopyle!" 

Another authority states that the word "Ohicpyle" in the Indian languag 
means "white froth upon the water." 

A local historian, in writing of this place in 1843, predicted that it woul 
one day be a large manufacturing town, especially if either of the then talke 
of internal improvements should be carried through, namely, the Baltimor 
and Ohio Railroad or the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal. Colonel Stev/art ha 
already built a house and a saw mill at the falls. (See picture herewith.) 

As to the origin and meaning of the name of the river itself, there is som 
diversity of opinion in literature and tradition. TJo one would ever accuse th 
word "Youghiogheny" cf being anything else than an Indian name. 

Among the various tribes of Indians that originally occupied this region 
were the Kanhawhas, who built their villages along the headwaters of thi: 
river and to them in all probability we are indebted for its name. "Yough 
icgheny" in the Isnguage of the Kanhawhas is said to mean "four rapid streams' 
and has reference to the junction of the rivers at Confluence some miles abovi 
the Ohiopyle Falls. 

Another authority on Indian names states that "Youghiogheny" in the In 
dian language meant "a stream running a contrary, or roundabout course.' 
This meaning would certainly seem appropriate at any rate. 

Still another origin for this "quaint old Indian name" is found in a fancifu 
' bit of tradition that has been told in one form or another from generation tc 
generation until it reached the writer as follows: 

i "In the days when the hardy pioneers were in constant peril from the hos- 

rtile natives, a white man whi'e out hunting along this stream, unexpectedly en- 
countered a 'Redskin' who was seen to be stealthily dcdging from tree to tree 
on the opposite bank, evidently seeking a shot at his enemy. The hunter upon 
discovering the Indian adopted similar tactics and took to a tree also — then it 
^became a question of Yankee strategy against the cunning of the savage as to 
'which should get the other's scalp. At length after exchanging several shots 
and sparring for some time for vantage, the hunter hit upon the ruse of hang- 
ing his cap on the end of his rifle and exposing it just enough to the Indian's 
iview to make it appear like the hunter's head from behind the tree. This had 

109 



the desired effect and the Redman quickly nred his bullet into the empty cap, 
whereupon the hunter with a loud groan a'.lowed his cap to fall beside the tree. 
At this the Indian sprang from his concealment with a wild laugh of savage 
exultation: 'Yough,' 'Yough,' 'Yough!' This was the wary hunter's oppor- 
tunity. He fired and killed the Indian, exclaiming as the lifeless body tumbled 
down the river bank: 'Now then, you bloody Redskin, "Yough" again, eh?' 
(Laugh again, will you?) And so the early sett'ers came to call the stream 
'Youghiogheny.' " 

Briefly tracing the windings of this unusually crooked and picturesque stream 
from Ohiopyle on down through the mountains and out through the "settle- 
ment" to its termination, we pass Bear Run. Indian Creek, Stewart's Crossing 
(or Connellsville), Broadford, Fort Hill, Dickerson Run and Dawson with the 
old town of East Liberty on the river hill opposite Dawson; then the once fa- 
mous "Little Falls" at the mouth of Furnace Run — Round Bottom — the "Big 
Falls," Layton Station, at the mouth of Washington Run, a few miles up which 
stream is the old Washington mill, with Washington Bottoms and Perryopolis 
a little further on; then Banning and Wickhaven and Jacob's Creek and West 
Newton and McKeesport, where it finally loses its identity by union with the 
stately old Monongahela. 

Throughout this entire course there attaches to the river and its surround- 
ing territory very much of historic interest, national as well as local. 

In the early days of the struggle for supremacy between the French and 
the English settlers and between the "pale face" of the East and the "red man" 
of the West, the geographical location of this portion of the Yough valle^ 
made it the common crossing ground between the English in Virginia and the 
East, and the disputed region of the then "far West," or the valley of the Al- 
legheny and the head of the Ohio River. 

Even before the days of the intrusion of the white man this region was 
made historic by numerous Indian trails that traversed it as great inter-tribal 
highways from North to South and from East to West. 

We briefly note in passing but two or three of these remarkable forest 
pathways. Of those running north and south, the most important one was the 
Catawba, or Cherokee Trail, leading from the Carolinas and the South through 
Virginia and Western Pennsylvania on to Western New York and Canada. 
This famous old trail came up through the county by way of Uniontown and 
Mt. Braddock and struck the Yough River at Opossum Run, crossing the river 
just below the mouth of the run, or at the point since known in history as, 
Stewart's Crossing; thence through the "narrows," out beyond Pennsville, past 
Green Lick Run to the mouth of Bushy Run; thence across Westmoreland 
County up the Allegheny Valley to the heads of the Susquehanna and on into 
Western New York, at that time the empire of the Iroquois. 

A branch left the main trail at Robinson's Mill on Opossum Run, which 
crossed the Yough at Broadford, bearing down across Jacob's Creek, Sewickley 
and Turtle Creeks to the "forks of the Ohio" at Pittsburg. Running east and 

] 10 



west, by far the most celebrated of these routes was the famous "NemacoHn's 
Trail," from the mouth of Will's Creek (Cumberland), to the forks of the Ohio 
(Pittsburg), and which achieved notoriety and perpetuity at the hands of Wash- 
ington and the ill-fated Braddock. 




BRADDOCKS GRAVE, OX THE NATIONAL ROAD. 



Much more of interest could be written of these Indian trails, of burial 
grounds and forts and of Indian history in general, associated with this region 
before the days of the white man, but it is not our purpose to go into detail 
with this part of the history. We shall only aim to briefly note these historic 
places, persons and events, that in their relationship to the region under discus- 
sion have a peculiar interest to our readers because of the light they throw on 
the land and times of our forefathers. 

The mention of the name of Washington in the above connection recalls 
I the fact that it was in the mountains of Fayette, a few miles west of the Yough 
River, that our great Revolutionary hero fought and won his first battle; that 
in which occurred the first bloodshed of the French and Indian War, namely, 
the defeat of the French forces with the killing of Jumonville, near Dunbar's 
Camp, on May 28, 1754. It was of this little fight with the French that he 
wrote shortly afterward in a letter to his brother: "I fortunately escaped 
!without any wounds, for the right wing where I stood was exposed to, and 
received all the enemy's fire; and it was the part where the man was killed and 
the rest wounded. I heard the bullets whistle, and believe me there is some- 
thing charming in the sound." 



Ill 



In after years when this kind of music had become quite common to tht 
great commander, it had evidently lost its charm, for when asked if he had evei 
uttered such boasting words, he answered gravely: "If I said so, it was wher 
I was young." 

While this upper Yough region was thus the scene of Washington's firsi 
victory, it was also the scene of his first defeat, for it was only a few weeks 
after this and but a few miles farther back in the mountains that July 4th wa: 
first made memorable in American history by the capture of Fort Necessity b} 
the French, which proved to be Washington's "first and only surrender." 




TIIK SITI' ()]• I'ORT XI •CI- SSI TV. 



It was only the next year after these remarkable events that Braddock'i 
army following the Nemacolin Trail, cut its road over these same mountain: 
and down through this new region to Stewart's crossing and on to the Mo 
nongahela where "Braddock's army was done so brown, left without a seal] 
to its crown," all of which is so much a part of general history, and so familia 
to every schoolboy that we only mention it in passing. 

Stewart's Crossing was named for an early settler, an Indian trader by thi 

IIJ 



lock's 



scil 



name of Stewart who was drowned in the Yough at or near this fording. It 
later became famous as the home of the well known pioneer hero, and friend 
and agent of Washington, Colonel William Crawford, the story of whose tragic 
death at the hands of the savages will always remain a most horrifying chap- 
ter in the early history of America. 

We deem it worth while to briefly sketch this famous career, not only be- 
cause of the interest that must always cling to the story itself, but because it 
is typical of the early life and struggles of our forefathers, especially in their 
battle for supremacy with the Indians. 

William Crawford was of Scotch-Irish parentage and was born in what 
is now Berkley Co., W. Va., in 1732. He became acquainted with George 
Washington — whose birth occurred in the same year — when a boy, and their 
friendship was never broken. It was from Washington that young Crawford 
learned the art of surveying, and it was through Washington's influence that 
he obtained a commission in the military service of Virginia in 1755. 

Crawford was not a member of Braddock's army. His first trip into the 
Yough region was made in 1758 as an officer in the army of General Forbes. 
He was so well pleased with this western country on this trip that he decided 

to come and make his home 
here. This he was prevented 
from doing for several years, on 
account of the hostile attitude of 
the Indians. By the fall of 1765 
this danger had subsided, and 
Crawford came over the moun- 
tains on horseback by way of 
the Braddock road in company 
with his half brother, Hugh 
Stevenson. When he reached the 
second crossing of the Yough, 
where the town of New Haven 
is now located, he was so much 
pleased with the fine meadow 
lands lying in the bend of the 
river that he here decided to 
build his home. 

The two men surveyed a tract 
of 376% acres, and put up a log 
cabin, into which Crawford 
moved his family the following 
year. 

Crawford's family, at the 
time of his settlement, consisted 
of his wife (Hannah Vance) 
and four children — John, 
Sarah, Effie and Anne. The dis- 




COL. WILLIAM CRAWFORD. 
ICRAWFORD'S SPRINCx, NEW HAVEN, PA. 



I 



comforts of bringing a family with several small children to Western Penn- 
sylvania in 1766 can scarcely be imagined. The road over the mountains was 
little better than a path, and exceedingly rough and dangerous in places. The 
transportation was effected by means of pack-horses. As a rule, the pioneer 
found three horses sufficient to carry his outfit. Little or no wooden furniture 
would be brought along, for that could be improvised on the ground. Bed 
clothing, kitchen utensils, agricultural implements, an axe, a rifle, a dog, tv/o 
cows and plenty of food were the essential things. The dog served as a watch- 
man, the cows furnished milk for the children on the way. 

The little caravan would move slowly, for mishaps were common. Every 



— - a^Vi--:^ 




<tiS!>* 



COJ.. CR.WVHORDS' CABIN (From a pencil Sketch). 

creek had to be forded and, in the spring when the waters were high, this was 
often attended with considerable danger. At night the only shelter for the 
mother would be an improvised hut. and sometimes even that could not be pro- 
vided. None but the most courageous of women would have attempted the 
journey, but Hannah Crawford was equal to it. She was a woman of unusual 
courage and vivacity, as her later life proves, and was able to provide for every 
emergency. 

The cabin prepared for their coming was an exceedingly humble home. It 
was about fourteen by sixteen feet in size, and contained but one room, in which 
the family lived and did all their work. It is said to have had two small open- 

114 



ings in the logs which served as windows — one beside the door, overlooking 
the river, and the other facing the hills. 

The floor was made of split logs, dressed with the axe as smooth as pos- 
sible; the roof was made of rough planks, or clap boards. Here, in this humble 
home the family lived during the entire time of Crawford's life in this com- 
munity. Here George Washington, Lord Dunmore, Governor of Virginia, 
Dr. James Craik, Captain Stephens and other illustrious men were entertained. 
Here, every passing traveler found a hospitable welcome, for the heart of Wil- 
liam Crawford was ever larger than his purse. It was an ideal spot for a home. 
The rich farming land yielded an abundant supply of food. The forest 
abounded in game. One hundred and fifty yards away the beautiful Yough- 
iogheny sparkled in the sunshine. A short distance to the north ran the old 
Braddock road along which travelers were constantly passing. The Crawfords 
had none of the comforts and conveniences of our modern life, but they lived 
close to Nature's heart, and were healthy, happy and strong. 

One of William Crawford's chief employments, aside from his farming, 
was surveying. Having learned the art in Virginia he was now in a position 
'where he could put it to good use. Seven tracts of land in Fayette County, 
containing more than two thousand acres, were surveyed for George Wash- 
ington. One of these tracts was the "Great Meadows," embracing the site of 
Fort Necessity. Over 1600 acres of valuable land was secured for him in Perry 
township. Crawford also surveyed several tracts of land for Washington near 
Fort Pitt and down the Ohio, for all of which he was fully paid. 

In the fall of 1770, Washington, accompanied by Dr. James Craik, came 
over the mountains to inspect his newly acquired lands. Crawford accom- 
panied them on their journey, and took pleasure in showing them the natural 
resources of the country and in entertaining them at his home. 

Nature had endowed him with many of the highest qualities of the soldier. 
He was a born leader of men. When danger threatened he was quick to re- 
spond to the call of his fellow-men and organize them for self-defense. The 
;orrespondence between Crawford and Washington during the summer of 1774 
;hows how serious the apprehensions of the settlers in the Yough region were 
It that time with respect to the Indians. By the assistance of several neigh- 
boring families a block house was built on Crawford's land near his home. 

Another similar fort was built near the home of his brother. Danger 
vas imminent. The people fled in crowds from the country, and Crawford 
;ielieved that he was only doing his duty in giving himself to the public de- 
ense. He did not wish the leadership of the Sandusky Expedition, and ac- 
epted it only when convinced by General Irvine and other good men that it 
/as his duty. He served his country well, and his tragic death at the stake on 
|ie afternoon of June 11, 1782, was mourned by true patriots all over the land. 



lid 

ft '115 



CRAWFORD'S SANDUSKY EXPEDITION. 

On the 24th of May, 1782, a force of 480 mounted men assembled at Mingo 
Bottom, on the Ohio River, about two and a half miles from Steubenville, 
These men were about to take part in an enterprise in which our neighborhood 
was profoundly interested. Many of the men were from the Yough, and the 
leader was the sturdy and well tested soldier, William Crawford, of Stewart's 
Crossings (New Haven), now in the fiftieth year of his age. It was an expedi- 
tion long felt to be absolutely necessary, to put down the hostile tribes in the 
neighborhood of the Sandusky River, in what is now Ohio. 

The fierce Wyandots, Delawares and Shawnees, known as the Sandusky 
Indians, were bitter enemies of the Americans, and encouraged as they were 
by the Eritish Commandant at Detroit, they kept up an unceasing warfare 
against the frontier settlements. 

General Washington said: "I am convinced that the possession or de- 
struction of Detroit is the only means of giving peace and security to the 
western frontier," and General William Irvine, now in command at Fort Pitt, 
said: "It is, I believe, universally agreed that the only way to keep the Indians 
from harassing the country is to visit them. But we find by experience that 
burning their empty towns has not the desired efiect; they must be followed up 
and beaten, or the British, whom they draw thtir support from, totally driven 
out of their ccunry. I believe if Detroit was demolished it would be a good 
step toward giving some, at least temporary, ease to this country." 

This was the belief of Colonel Crawford, and though he had no intention of 
going with the Ssndusky expedition of 1782, he cordially approved and recom- 
mended it. There was no difference of opinion as to the necessity of it, and it 
was "as carefully considered and as authoritatively planned as any military en- 
terprise in the West during the Revolution," its promoters being not only "the 
principal military and civil officers in the Western Department, but a larger pro- 
portion of the best known and most influential private citizens." 

The expedition was made of volunteers from the present counties of Fay- 
ette, V/estmoreland and Washington, a number of them from the Youghiogh- 
eny Valley. Colonel Crawford was prevailed upon to go, and with him went his 
Eon-in-law, his nephew and not a few friends and neighbors. And on the 16th 
of May he made his will, and on Saturday morning, the 18th, he left home, went 
to Fort Pitt, had an interview with Colonel Irvine, joined the troops at Mingo 
Bottom on the 24th, was chosen Commander by a vote of men, started into the 
wilderness Saturday morning, the 25th of May, reached the Sandusky Plains in 
nine days, and on the 4th of June entered one of the Wyandot towns and found 
it deserted. 

The same afternoon his army met a British force, called Butler's Rangers, 
and about 200 Indians. The Indians had learned of the Expedition, and had 
sent runners to Detroit asking help. Captain Matthew Elliot, a Tory from Path 
Valley, Pennsylvania, and the notorious Simon Girty, "the white renegade," 
were with the Indians and British. 

116 



The battle lasted until sundown, without marked advantage on either side. 
Colonel Crawford lost five killed and nineteen wounded; his opponents lost six 
killed and eight wounded. 

The Arrcricans "slep by their watch-fires in the grove," from which the 
enemy had been dislodged, and the enemy camped for the night upon the open 
plain. The next morning neither side made attack, but in the afternoon 140 
Shawnee warriors, painted and plumed, came from the south and took their 
position beside the Delawares and the VVyandots, while small bodies of sav- 
ages were seen coming to this scene of the conflict. Lieutenant Rose said: 
"They kept pouring in hourly from all quarters." 

A Council of Officers was held and a retreat was decided upon. Fires were 
burned over the graves of the dead to prevent discovery. Seven of the wounded 
v/ere put upon stretchers. The others, less seriously wounded, were put upon 
horses. Crawford and his imperilled army began the retreat as the darkness 

Ifell, but they were no sooner in motion than the Shawnees and the Delawares 
I attacked them, inflicting some loss and causing much confusion. 

Three of the divisions hurried off from the route taken by the advance^^ 
guard, and some of the men got into a swamp or "cranberry marsh." 

At the break of day the retreating army reached the deserted Wyandot vil- 
lage. Many had becom.e separated from the main body, some of whom were 
captured by the Indians, while others found their way home through the un- 
tenanted forest, but somewhat more than three hundred had been able to keep 
: together. 

The Colonel headed the retreat of the main body of his discomfited band. 
To assure himself whether or not his son and other relatives were safe he* 
stopped and went back, or let the army pass him to make inquiry. Not finding 
them he left the line of retreat to make further search, but in vain. And now, 
so rapidly had the army moved, and so jaded was his horse, that he was unable 
to overtake it. This separatzon from his command cost him his life as a sac- 
rifice to parental solicitude. 

He soon fell in company with Dr. Knight, the surgeon of the regiment, 
land two others, and, guided by the stars, they traveled all night in varied di- 

Irections to elude the pursuit of the enemy. On the next day they were joined 
by four ethers, two of whom were Captain John Biggs and Lieutenant Ashley, 
ithe latter badly wounded. These eight now held together, and on the second 
light of the flight ventured to encamp. The next day they came to the path 
oy which the army had advanced; and a council was held as to whether it would 
36 safer to pursue it, or to continue their course through the woods. The Col- 
jnel's opinion decided them to keep the open path. A line of march was formed, 
with Crawford and Knight in front. Biggs and Ashley in the centre, on horse- 
back, while the other foot men brought up the rear. Scarcely had they pro- 
■:eeded a mile v/hen several Indians sprung up within twenty yards of the path, 
;)resented their guns, and in good English ordered them to stop. Knight 
prung behind a tree, and leveled his gun at one of them. Crawford ordered 



; 



117 



him not to fire, and the doctor reluctantly obeyed. The Indians ran up t 
Colonel Crawford in a friendly manner, shook his hands and asked him ho 
be did. Biggs and Ashley halted, while the men in the rear took to their hee 
and escaped. Colonel Crawford ordered Captain Biggs to come up and su 
render, but the Captain instead of doing so took aim at an Indian, fired, the 
he and Ashley put spurs to their horses, and for the present escaped. The 
were both overtaken and killed the next day. 

On the morning of June 10th Colonel Crawford, Dr. Knight and nine oth< 
prisoners were conducted by seventeen Indians to the old Sandusky town, aboi 
thirty-three miles distant. They were all blacked by Pipe, a Delaware chie 
who led the captors, and the other nine were marched ahead of Crawford an 
Knight. Four of the prisoners were tomahawked and scalped on the way ; 
different places, and when the other five arrived at the town, the boys ar 
squaws fell upon them and tomahawked them in a moment. 

We now approach the "last scene of all which ends this strange eventfi 
history." and we borrow the eloquent description of it by Captain McClung: 

"As soon as the Colonel arrived they surrounded him, stripped him nake 
and compelled him to sit on the ground near a large fire, around which wei 
about thirty warriors and more than double that number of squaws and boy 
They then fell upon him and beat him severely with their fists and sticks. 1 
a few minutes a large stake was fixed in the ground and piles of hickory pol( 
about twelve feet long were spread around it. Colonel Crawford's hands wei 
then tied behind his back; a strong rope was produced, one end of which w: 
fastened to the ligature between his wrists and the other tied to the bottom ( 
the stake. The rope was long enough to permit him to walk around the stal 
several times, and then return. Fire was then applied to the hickory pol< 
which lay in piles at the distance of several yards from the stake. 

"The Colonel observing these terrible preparations, called to the not< 
Simon Girty, who sat on horseback at a few yards distance from the fire, ar 
asked if the Indians were going to burn him. Girty very coolly replied in tl 
affirmative. The Colonel heard this with firmness, merely observing that 1 
would try and bear it with fortitude. When the hickory poles had been bun 
asunder in the middle, Captain Pipe arose and addressed the crowd in a tone ( 
great energy, and with animated gestures, pointing frequently to the Colon< 
who regarded him with an appearance of unruffled composure. As soon as I 
had finished, a loud whoop burst from the assembled throng, and they all 
once rushed upon the unfortunate victim. For several seconds the crowd ar 
confusion were so great that Knight could not see what they were doing; but 
a short time they had sufficiently dispersed to give him a view of the Colon( 
His ears had been cut off, and the blood was streaming down each side of h 
face. A terrible scene of torture now commenced. The warriors shot chargi 
of powder into his naked body, commencing with the calves of his legs ar 
continuing to his neck. The boys snatched the burning hickory poles and a] 
plied them to his flesh. As fast as he ran around the stake to avoid one pari 

118 



of tormentors, he was promptly met at every turn by others with burning poles 
and red-hot irons and rifles loaded with powder only, so that in a few minutes 
nearly one hundred charges of powder had been shot into his body, which had 
become black and blistered in a dreadful degree. The squaws would take up 
quantities of coals and hot ashes and throw them upon his body, so that in a 
few minutes he had nothing but fire to walk upon. 

"In this extremity of his agony the unhappy Colonel called aloud upon 
Girty in tones that rang through Knight's brain with maddening effect: 'Girty! 
Girty! shoot me through the heart! Quick! Quick! Don't refuse me!' 'Don't 
you see I have no gun. Colonel!' replied the monster bursting into a loud laugh; 
then turning to an Indian beside him he uttered some brutal jests upon the 
naked and miserable appearance of the prisoner. 

"The terrible scene had now lasted more than two hours, and Crawford 
had become much exhausted. He walked slowly around the stake, spoke in a 
lov/ tone, and earnestly besought God to look with compassion upon him and 
to pardon his sins. His nerves had lost much of their sensibility, and he no 
longer shrank from the fire-brands, with which they incessantly touched him. 
At length he sunk in a fainting fit upon his face and lay motionless. Instantly 
an Indian sprung upon his back, knelt lightly upon one knee, made a circular 
icision with his knife upon the crown of his head, and, clapping the knife be- 
tween his teeth, tore off the scalp with both hands. Scarcely had this been 
done, when a withered hag approached with a board full of burning embers 
and poured them upon the crown of his head, now laid bare to the bone. The 
Colonel groaned deeply, rose again, and walked slowly around the stake — but 
why continue a description so horrible? Nature at length could endure no 
nore, and at a late hour in the night he was released by death from the hands 
3f his tormentors." 

It is believed that Major Harrison, Major Ross and Ensign William Craw- 
brd, Jr., being officers and known to some of the Indians, met a like fiery end 
it other places. What a gorge of infernal revelry did the Crawford family af- 
ord to the infuriated savages! Of the five, John, the son, only escaped, to 
•nourn their untimely end with his widowed mother and sister. For a while 
he wild grass of the prairie refused to grow upon their unurned ashes; but 
ivcr their undug graves often since hath "the peaceful harvest smiled." 

"Dr. Knight was doomed to be burned at a Shawnee town, about forty 
liles distant from Sandusky, and was committed to the care of a young Indian 
3 be taken there. The first day they traveled about twenty-five miles and en- 
amped for the night. In the morning, the gnats being very troublesome, the 
octor requested the Indian to untie him that he migh help him to make a fire 
keep them off. With this request the Indian complied. While the Indian 
^as on his knees and elbows blowing the fire, the Doctor caught up the end of 
stick which had been burned in two, with which he struck the Indian on the 
ad, so as to knock him forward into the fire. Raising up instantly he ran off 
': great rapidity, howling most piteously. Knight seized the Indian's rifle and 

119 



pursued him, but drawing back the cock too violently he broke the main spring 
and relinquished the pursuit. The Doctor then took to the woods, and after 
many perils by land and water, reached Ft. Mcintosh (Beaver) on the 22d day 
nearly famished. During his journey he subsisted on young birds, roots and 
berries." He recruited a little strength and clothing at the fort and then came 
home. He owed his life — and we the tale of Crawford's tortues — to the simple 
credulity of his young Indian bailiff. 

•t* '1^ 'I* "P ^ ^ T^ 

Passing on from Stewart's Crossing, we come a short distance down the 
river to another of the old-time fordings known as the "Broad Ford." Here 
for many years in the earlier day was located a well-known woolen factory, full- 
ing mill and grist mill. All this has changed in late years. The place is an- 
other witness of the retrograding influence of the greed for wealth; instead of 
that which would feed and clothe and bless humanity, there is more money 
made in the extensive manufacture of that which robs and starves and degrades 
the race, in the old Overholt distilleries located here. 

From Broad Ford northward to the county line is an almost continuous 
succession of coke works, which have been in operation for forty years or more, 
and which have so changed this whole region in surface, soil and society, as well 
as in general appearance, that we doubt if he were to come back, that our great- 
grandfather Philip Galley could now locate the site of his former home and 
farm at the Morgan Coke Works a short distance up the Broad Ford Run. 

(See illustration, page 19) 

From Broadford in going down the river, we pass a continuous series of 
mines and ovens till we reach the town of Dawson. 

On the opposite side just above Dawson, is what is known as the "Fort 
Hill Coke Works," so named from the high bluff that overlooks the works, on 
which there is said to have been at one time an Indian fort and Indian grave- 
yard. This portion of the river from Broadford to Dawson is especially inter- 
esting in connection with the beginning of the coke industries that have since 
made all this region so famous. It was here that some of the earliest, if not 
the first coke ovens in all this country were built, and it was certainly here that 
the making of coke first reached that degree of success that made it a profitable 
business. True, Connellsville seems to have a well founded claim to the honor 
of having had built within her limits the first successful bee-hive oven in the 
country. We o.uote from the "Centennial History of Connellsville" as follows: 
"But in the meantime the real beginning of the coke industry had been made. 
And just as Connellsville to day sets her seal upon the richest and largest coke 
production in the world, so she had the honor to build the first successful bee- 
hive oven in the country. Few residents of Connellsville to-day know that the 
first coke oven in the Connellsville region was not built near Dawson, as his- 
tory has always spoken, but in the very heart of Connellsville itself, and not 
300 feet from the old stone house built by Zachariah Connell." 

The "meantime" at the beginning of the above quotation refers to the more 

120 



or less uncertain and doubtful claims as to the making of coke in other parts of 
the country prior to the date of this authentic beginning in Connellsville which 
was in the year 1833. For instance, it is stated on good authority that Isaac 
Meason, who conducted at Plumsock or Upper Middletown, the first rolling mill 
west of the Allegheny Mountains, made coke for his foundry out of the Red- 
stone coal as early as 1831 or even earlier, but that this coke was unsatisfactory, 
owing to the hardness of the Redstone coal and therefore its manufacture was 
discontinued. 

Other fairly authentic claims maintain that coke was made in a small way 
at various iron furnaces in Blair, Armstrong and Huntingdon counties as early 
as 1811 to 1819, and it has even been stated, but not proven, that coke was made 
and used in the manufacture of iron in America before the war of the Revolu- 
tion. In 1836 coke was used for a brief time in making iron by Oliphant at the 
Fairchance Furnace, and it was claimed by David Trimble v;ho used to live at 
the "Little Falls" and by "Little Jim" Cochran, the pioneer coke king, that at 
about this same time (1830 to 1836) one or more coke ovens were built and 
used by the old Franklin Iron Works at the mou<:h of Furnace Run or "Little 
Falls" and that these were then supposed to be the first ovens in Pennsylvania 
if not in the United States. 

But whether or not these early claims as to the building of ovens or the 

; manufacture and use of coke are authentic, one thing is certain, and that is that 
the real beginning of the coke industry, the building of ovens and making of 
coke in shipping quantities, dates from the year 1841 and takes its location on 
the Yough River at a point since called "Sedgewick Station" between Broadford 

'and Dawson. It came about in this way, according to the history above quoted: 

I i William Turner, an Englishman, who had seen coke made in his native land, 
:and who had also watched the efforts in this direction by Norton and others, 
having come into possession of a small fortune, sought investment for it in the 
infant coke industry to which Lester Norton, aided by another Englishman, 
Nichols, had pointed the way with their little plant of one oven and their ground 
ricks. 

Turner was acquainted with John Taylor, the stone mason, who built the 
first Connellsville oven some eight years before, and who now owned some coal 
'land at the mouth of Hickman Run on the Youghiogheny River just above 
Dawson. He would be a good man to take into this new venture, for being a 
,mason, he could build the ovens, besides, having a "coal-bank" on his land, he 
could furnish the coal. 

But to build the ovens and make the coke was not all. It must be mar- 
keted. There were no railroads — the river was the only means of transporta- 
ion and as yet this was without boats. It would be necessary, therefore, for 
Turner to get some carpenters into his new firm. 

These were found in the persons of Provance McCormick (a greit-grand- 
on of Colonel William Crawford) and James Campbell. The partnership was 
low complete; Turner, who was the organizer and moving spirit in the under- 

121 



taking, seemed to remain a sort of si'ent partner while Taylor, McCormick a 
Campbell were the mechanics and did the actual work. The new firm soon g 
busy. Taylor built four bee-hive ovens (some who profess to remember, s 
only two at first) on his own land, a short distance above the mouth of Hi( 
man Run (see cut) and after building the ovens mined the coal to supply the 
All through the fall and winter of 1841 the little ovens continued to produ 
coke, and by the spring of 1842 this pioneer coke p^ant had its first shipme 
ready for the market — if perchance a market could be found. Campbell a 




" FORT HII.L." 

Fort Hill Coke Works iti I'ull Blast; .\ few rods from the foreground of this ]ncti 
is tlie site of llie Taylor ovens inenlioned above. 

McCormick in the meantime had been busy on the construction of two f 
boats. From one Major Gebhart, of Dayton, Ohio, but formerly of Connel 
ville. Turner learned of the rapid growth of the iron business down the Ol 
River, and when consulted in regard to the matter Gebhart advised Turner tl 
he believed it would pay to make coke and ship it down the river by flat-boa 
As a result of this advice, when Campbell and McCormick had finished th' 



iJUdLs diiu Willi luc aiu ui 1 ayiui aiiu lus uvciis, luaueu incm wiin two inousana 
bushels of coke. Turner purchased the cargo, and he himself piloted the two 
boats on their perilous voyage down the winding rocky course of the "Dare- 
Devil Yough," starting with a freshet in the spring of 1842 and reaching Cin- 
cinnati in safety. But when Turner tried to dispose of his coke in Cincinnati, 
he learned that he was sadly ahead of his time, the foundrymen were afraid to 
invest in his "cinders," and in his distress Turner sent for Gebhart, who went 
from Dayton to the assistance of his friend, and it was through Gebhart's in- 
fluence entirely that Turner was finally able to dispose of one boatload by ped- 
dling it from place to place, getting an average of eight cents a bushel. The 
other half of the cargo was then boated up the canal to Dayton and there Geb- 
hart induced Armstrong, the proprietor of the largest foundry in Dayton, to 
use the coke. 

There is an old tradition that in part payment for this Turner was given a 
patent iron grist mill, for which great things had been promised, that this mill 
had been brought home by Turner and placed in the Strickler & Nickel grist 
mill in New Haven; that it proved a failure, and was afterward sold for the 
puny sum of thirty dollars. Proof of this stcry seems elusive. At all events, 
the first partnership firm in the coke business was too easily discouraged. Tur- 
ner evidently did not purchase a second cargo from the McCormick, Taylor 
and Campbell Co., and the ovens were allowed to become idle. 

But down in Dayton, Armstrong was using that one boat load of coke and 

I praising its qualities. Had there been means of easy communication at that 
time it is almost a certainty that the hardy coke pioneers instead of dissolving 
partnership as they did would have been busy getting out the second shipment 
to go down the river, for not long after this transaction, the Armstrong foundry 
sent a representative here, offering a market and a fair price for all the coke 
that could be sent down the Youghiogheny. 

Turner's history after this is not so well known, but it is claimed that he 
continued in the coke business, and that after his venture with Campbell, Mc- 
Cormick and Taylor, he began to make coke in ricks on the ground at a point 
near what is now the Fort Hill works, almost opposite the Taylor ovens (see 
cut), and that later when Thomas Gregg erected a sm.all plant of bee-hive ovens, 
Turner, in partnership with Richard Bookens, continued to boat the product 
[down the river to the foundries at Cincinnati and other Ohio River towns. 

Notwithstanding the discouragement of Taylor, McCormick and Camp- 
Dell, the little plant at Sedgev/ick was not long idle. A sturdy infant had been 
Dorn in 1823, and his parents christened him James Cochran. His neighbors 
e-christened him "Little Jim." When a mere lad, with his brother, Samuel 
Cochran, he had been employed to wash sand at the bsnks of his uncle, Mor- 
lecai Cochran, along the Youghiogheny River a short distance below Broad 
'i'ord. The two boys became ambitious. They built a boat which would hold 
me hundred tons of sand. James Cochran seems to have done the work, be- 
cause there is a record showing that he gave a half interest in the boat to his 

123 



brother to p::y for tl:e lumber uced in the construcdcn. The two boys took th 
cargo of sand to Pittsburg, where they sold it to the glass factories, receivin 
two dollars a ton. They sold the boat in Pittsburg also, and returned horr 
each with about fifty dollars in pocket. Feeling rich, they leased two of th 
four ovens cf the Fayette works at Scdgewick and after making two boat loac 
of coke, each boat holding six thousand tons, they boated it down the rive 
The start was m.ade April 1, 1843. They had a covering of sand over one pai 
of the cargo, and on this sand a bed a large fire was kept burning. By the tirr 
they reached Wheeling, with no other covering over them than the blue sk; 
they discovered that the cargo of coke under the sand was afire. It was wil 
difficulty that they prevented the fire from burning and sinking the boat. B( 
fore proceeding farther down the river, they erected a shed over the coke, an 
the larger fire was not necessary. When they reached Cincinnati, it was sever, 
days before they happened across Miles Greenwood. He was the man wh 
started the Connellsville coke industry on its onward rush to gigantic propo 
tions. He had been using Monongahela River coke in his foundries. Greei 
wood was born in New Jersey in the year 1807. He moved to New Yor 
thence to the New Harm.ony Community, whence he drifted into Pittsburgh i 
1825, where he learned the iron business. Three years later he opned an ire 
foundry in Pittsburgh and then moved to Cincinnati, where he enlarged tf 
business, employing in 1828 ten hands. This was the size of his foundry wh« 
the Cochrans sold him their cargo of coke at seven cents a bushel. That tb 
coke did him no harm is evident from the fact that in 1850 he had so prospere 
that his foundry was employing three hundred workmen. In 1861, still coi 
tinuing the use of the Connellsville coke, his entire plant was turned into 
Government arsenal, with seven hundred workmen employed, and during t\ 
Civil War turned out forty thousand Springfield rifles, two hundred bronze cai 
ncn, hundreds of caissons and gun carriages and one sea-going coast defen; 
monitor. 

From the time Greenwood first tried the modest cargo of the Cochran 
coke he would use no other. For the first consignment he paid half cash ar 
gave notes for the other half, which notes he was able to pay before their m 
turity. The Cochrans continued to make coke at the Fayette works, whic 
was enlarged in 1860 to thirty ovens. In 1865 Schoenberger & Co., of Pitt 
burgh, purchased a one-third interest in this plant. The iron makers had • 
last awakened to the real worth of the Connellsville coking fields! 

But in the meantime operations had been growing elsewhere. When Turm 
erected three ovens near Fort Hill, and was able to sell the coke in Cincinna 
Colonel Alexander Hill opened the vein of coal near the Thomas Gregg ovei 
and erected there four ovens. Soon after he built eight more. This must ha^ 
been about 1844 or 1845. These ovens were all of the same type the bee hi\ 
oven, and very small at that. 

About this time also a new name came into the coke industry. Stewa 
Strickler was born in New Salem, Fayette County, in 1812. It is a noteworth 

124 



luciucui liidt luib man iiau ;iib uiriiipiate in ine o:a town wnicn is to-uay tne 
hub cf the busy circle cf plants in the Lower Connellsville region. He moved 
into this district when young, and engaged in the business of boating eggs and 
other produce down the Youghiogheny River to Pittsburgh and other points 
below. In 1837 he failed financially, and found himself plunged into debt. But 
he was made of stern clay. ;He remembered that at Jacob's Creek, where the 
old Trumball furnace had operated for many years, but which liad been out of 
blast for as many more years at this time, he had seen a great pyramid of iron 
ore slag and cinders. He knew that in the old process of smelting much of the 
iron was left unextracted from the ore and he conceived the idea of purchasing 
this pile of slag, boating it down the river to the Pittsburgh and Cincinnati 
mills, and there selling it to the proprietors. He built a boat, bought a cargo 
of the Stuff, paying fifty cents a ton for it, and took it to Pittsburgh. He sold 
the whole cargo at $1.50 a ton. This seems like a scheme easily planned to us 
who live in these times where every scrap of the market, the home and the mill 
is turned into something else, but in Strickler's time this was a much keener 
example of industrial acuteness. The man who could realize profit out of an 
old stone furnace ruins in the bushes was the sort of a man who would not 
stop to delve deeper into the resources of nature. 

And so Strickler's next move was the purchase of ten acres of coal along 
the Youghiogheny River, which he did in the early forties. That purchase was 
' the nucleus of the development which sprang up around the little village known 
; as Jimlown, where the Sterling works are now located. There Strickler built 
six bee-hive ovens, end the coke produced therein he at first sold to the Coch- 
rans. In 1855 he purchased 80 acres of the Jesse Taylor tract of coal, in the 
; same neighborhood, because he seems to have foreseen the advent of the rail- 
I road up the Youghiogheny River, and had a vision of the future prospects of 
coke making. His vision came true. And when in 1857, the Pittsburg and 
Connellsville Railroad was built, he erected eighty ovens on this Taylor tract. 
Sterling is some distance up the hollow from the Youghiogheny River, and in 
order to get the coke to the railroad, Slrickler laid a tram-road from his plant 
to the railroad siding. From the first this plant made money for its owner. 
The coke was sold to Graff, Bennett & Co., of Pittsburgh, who used daily in 
their foundries two thousand bushels. This contract was in force for several 
years and from 1860 till 1864 the Pittsburgh company was supplied wholly, or 
nearly so, from this Sterling works. By this time the iron men were fully con- 
ivinced of the necessity of Connellsville coke, and Graff, Bennett & Co. made 
Strickler an offer of thirty-five thousand dollars for a one-third interest in 
iSterling. Strickler accepted the bid, and a few months later Schoenberger & 
Co. purchased the other two-thirds interest for forty thousand dollars. Strick- 
ler, had he made investment of these funds, which made him rich at that time, 
in Connellsville coke fields and in their development, would have left the wealth- 
iest generation in Fayette County. But he seems to have been satisfied with his 
transaction and later moved to Tennessee, where he died. As an instance of 

125 



.1 



the rapid growth in the value of Connellsville coking lands, even in those early 
times, it may be cited that in the years between 1834 and 1840, Strickler pur- 
chased his father's farm at a price averaging thirty dollars an acre, and in 1864 
he sold it to J. K. Ewing for two hundred dollars an acre; Ewing in turn selling 
it not long afterwards for double the latter sum. 

In the meantime the coke industry had been growing rather rapidly, and 




TVl'KAI. COK''. ()\1-;NS. CH ARCINC, DRAWING AND IN lU.AST. 

spreading further and further through the territory surrounding its birthplace. | 
The rapidly increasing demand for coke among the iron men and the advent 
of the railroad with its wonderfully improved transportation facilities, con- , 
tributed largely toward this effect. I 

Cochran & Kcister, Watt, Taylor & Co.; Paull, Brown & Co. and other ; 

12b i 



region, uniil in 1876 there were 3000 ovens in the district. In tlie next ten or 
twelve years, when the chief centre of the iron business had moved up to Al- 
legheny County and the value of the Connellsville coke had become known to 
the smelting industries of the Pacific slope, the demand for coke and the growth 
of the industry throughout the Connellsville region advanced with such rapid 
strides that the mining of coal and the manufacture of coke by far transcended 
all other industries combined. 

"Little Jim" Cochran, one of the pioneers of the flat-boat day; W. J. Rainey, 
who started in with one small plant and fought his way as an independent op- 
erator to the top ranks, and that most remarkable financial character, Henry 
Clay Frick, who was born a poor boy and was a "coal digger" on his way up, 
long before he was a multi-millionaire coal owner, along with many others only 
less prominent, all grew into wealth and prominence in the last 25 or 30 years. 
And the industry still grows; the number of ovens is steadily increasing and 
natural'y the amount of coal is rather rapidly growing less. In the Connells- 
ville region proper it is estimated that there are about 64,000 acres of coal, and 
that one third of this has already been worked out. In the last ten years what 
is known as the Lower Connellsville Region, or that in the southern part of 
the county, extending from Uniontown southward and westward to the Mo- 
nongahela River, has grown up with such amazing rapidity that it is now only 
second in importance to the Connellsville field itself. 

Th-j Connellsville region proper comprises about 100 plants, having nearly 
24,000 ovens, while the Lower Connellsville region so-called has nearly 60 
plants with something like 11,000 ovens. 

The two regions together at the present time (1907) are said to be sending 
out coke at the rate of about four hundred thousand tons every week, or nearly 
twenty-one million tons a year. "Estimating that this would be about sixteen 
thousand cars a week, the year's production would make a train so long that 
the engine in front of it would go to San Francisco and come back to Connells- 
ville before the caboose had gotten started out of the Connellsville yards!" 

Judge E. H. Reppert, of Uniontown, in his great address at the Connells- 
ville Centennial in August, 1906, made use of the following language: "The 
limit of value for an acre of genuine Connellsville coking coal has not yet been 
I reached, nor ascertained, although young men who have scarcely attained their 
majority have seen it increase in some instances from $50 or less, to $3000. 
Thirty years ago there were but 3000 ovens in the entire region; there are now 
S2.000. Last year's production reached nearly eighteen millions tons. The 
average price per ten was $2.26. This year's production will reach and prob- 
ably exceed 19.000.000 tons, and the average price per ton will equal, if not ex- 
ceed, $2.50. It is difficult to appreciate these stupendous figures. To transport 
this enormous production will require 430,000 cars. If these were joined to- 
gether in one continuous train it would more than reach across the Continent 
and back. The value of the train load would be $47,000,000, and would require 
a string of dollar bills placed end to end as long as the train to pay for it." 

127 



BOATING ON TrE YOUGM 

Speaking of the early transportation cf coal by flat-boats on the Youg 
leads us to say something of boat-building as one of the early river industries 
Quite a number of the older residents of this region remember well the day 
of the "flat-boats" and have told us much concerning their constructicn and us 
on the river. Just when and where Yough flat-boating begun we are unabl 
to say, but it is quite probable that it was in the vicinity of Stewart's Crossin 
by the early settlers and traders on their way to the West, who, after comin 
ovtir the mountains by foot and pack-horse could here construct rude boats an 
thus facilitate and shorten somewhat perhaps their journeyo westv.^ard and t 
the southwest. Later enterprising residents of the region met this demand b 
going into the boat- building business, so as to have boats -eady for prospectiv 
users. One of the first sav/ mills west of the Alleghenies was set up at Stew 
art's Crossing probably as early as 1789 and furnished much of the lumibsr use 
in the Yough region for many years. 

Long before the days of coal and coke working, various forms of produc 
and merchandise were conveyed up and down this river in flat-boats, usually 
was down the river, for it was with great difficulty and only on rarely opportun 
occasions that boats of any size could be brought back after they had carried 
cargo to Pittsburgh or other points on the Ohio or Mississippi. When th 
cargo was disposed of in most instances the boats were sold for whatever the 
would bring — sometimes for further use on oth^r waters, sometimies simply fc 
the lumber they contained, and the owners or crew, for often the owners wei 
the crew, came back by overland route. 

A brief description of these boats, and something of the method of buildin 
them will perhaps be interesting to our readers whose grandfathers and grea 
grandfathers in many instances, no doubt, took part in the building or the usin 
of these once familiar but now almost forgotten carriers of commerce on ib 
Yough. 

One of the most active and most successful boatmen of his day who is no 
close to his four score years,* has given the writer some interesting data alon 
this line. 

The boats were built at various places along the river from Connellsvil' 
to tl e "Little Falls." Our octogenerian friend, who not only built thirty-seve 
hosts with his own hands, but was also one of the most successful pilots on th 
river, having the proud record of never losing a boat by wrecking, although h 
probably made more trips than any man in his day, built his boats on the sout 
side of the Yough, first just above the present Dawson bridge, later at a poir 
near the Henry Galley homestead, and more than anywhere else at the "Litt^ 
Falls." 

The boats were usually built with flat bottoms and were from 80 feet to 1£ 
feet in length, 18 to 22 feet wide and 6 to 10 feet deep. This was about as larg 



*Since dead. 

128 



as could be safely piloted around the curves and through the many "falli" and 
danger points of the Yough. There was no trouble after reaching the Monon- 
gahela and the Ohio; here two or more boats were often lashed together for 
the rest of the trip, one crew being thus able to handle all. The building of a 
boat was begun by setting up a frame held together by wooden pins, with bot- 
tom up, and necessitated for this framework the best of timber. For the "gun- 
nels," or large side timbers that ran the length of the boat, the woods were 
searched far and near for the finest trees that could be found of suitable size 
and length and "grain." These were hewed to 18 or 20 in square with the 
broadaxe, and then were hauled to the boat-yard, where they were either split 
or sawed their entire length into halves. It was quite an art to split a pair of 
"gunnels" successfully. It was done by setting an axe so as to make an opening 
for a small wedge every six or eight inches throughout the entire length of the 
timber, then tapping these wedges deeper and deeper as the stick began to 
yield until it was split through the centre from end to end. Sometimes the 
gunnels were sawed instead of split. To do this a pit large enough for a man 
;o work in was dug in the ground and the squared timber placed across the top 
5f this pit in such a way that two men, one above and one in the pit could 
A'ork a whip-saw, having the stick moved up from time to time until it was 
lawed through its entire length. In some of the longer boats it was necessary 
o join two and sometimes three tree lengths to make the "gunnels." 

The "gunnels" were then joined at proper intervals with heavy hewed cross 
ics and to these were fastened by pinning the sawed "streamers" or "runners" 
cngthwise of the boat, and on this the bottom was built of heavy plank running 
rosswise. After the bottom was laid it had to be calked. This was done by 
redging coarse toe into all the cracks. Later when "scutchin' toe'' became 
carce, oakum was used for calking. Older residents of the Yough region, 
vcn many miles back in the country, tell us that the peculiar dull monotonous 
lud of the calkers day after day used to be a familiar sound when the wind 
as coming from the direction of the river. 

The calking finished, the boat was ready to turn, and here again some en- 
neering ability and plenty of help was required. A "boat-turning" was much 
e a "barn-raising" at times. The neighbors were gathered from far and near 
'to a regular country-side frolic. 

Just as in the old-time barn-raising there was some hard work, and no little 
mger attending the overturning of one of those huge, heavy flats. It was on 
le of these occasions near Broadford that Jacob Galley, having left his loom 
respond to the call for help, lost his Hfe, as referred to elsewhere in this 
tok, by the slipping of a boat in the act of turning. Our informant tells us 
iat at first he used to turn his boats by means of a series of long levers ex- 
<iding under the boat and raised little at a time on uprights with holes and 
t)vable pins for that purpose, until the "flat" was nearly perpendicular, when 
s^eral men with pike-poles distributed along the boat, would at the proper 
s nal give it the final push that would send it over. Later at his "Little Falls" 



yard he constructed a tipple on which the boats were built and when ready coi 
be turned without much help or difficulty with this ingenious device. Oi 
turned, the boats were skidded into the water and finished by building up £ 
calking the sides. The time required to build one of these boats, of coui 
varied according to circumstances, yet was usually from one to two or th 
months. Our friend was a strong man and a great worker, and could turn ( 
a boat with but little help in less time than most other rivermen. He tells 
the first boats used in the transportation of coke were but 80 feet long. 




J.ACOR vSTRICKIvER. 
Veteran hoat-buildcr, pWoi and fislu'i man of tlu' Voutjli rf,L;ioii. 

built and piloted a number of these smaller boats; then he began to make th 
larger and larger until he built the largest pair of boats ever sent out of 1 
region. They were 166 feet long and 22 feet wide and 12 feet deep, and w 
loaded with coal bound for New Orleans. Both of these were successfi 
piloted through the dangers of the Yough, but only one of them ever read 
its destination, as the other was wrecked in the Mississippi. 

The last boat our veteran builder constructed was one for his own use. 

130 



built it, loaded it with coke and piloted it to market himself, and to this day 
recalls very distinctly every detail of the undertaking. 

The boat was one of the largest taken out of the region, measuring 157 feet 
,in length, and carrying 14,404 bushels of coke, for which he received 12^ cents 
1 bushel cash, at Madison, below Cincinnati. 

When asked how it was possible to get a boat safely through all the dan- 
;er points that had been pointed out — the rapids of the "Little Falls," around 
he "Lick Spring Bend," past the several large projecting rocks that were known 
md named by every riverman and on through another series of rocky rapids and 
iiharp curves, extending for more than a mile, and finally through the narrows 
ind over the "Big Falls," our friend replied with some of his old-time cnthus- 
r.sm: "It all depends upon the pilot and getting started right." (What a ser- 
non could be preached from those words, "The Right Pilot" and the "Right 
(tart" will always prevent shipwreck.) 

"The pilot must know his business and head her just right, for nothing can 
le done to handle her after she starts in." This can be the better understood 
irhen we recall that it was only at the time of high water that boats could be 
ken out at all, and that then the current was so swift through these "falls" 
at the strongest crew was entirely powerless to influence the course of their 
oat when once her head struck the rapids. "She must be headed right or all is 
)st," and the successful pilot was the man of cool nerve, good judgment and 
uick decision that could head her right — just the kind of man that is successful 
riywhere. 

We have mentioned that one of the early mills for the sawing of lumber 
sed in the boat-building industry of the Yough was at Connellsville. Another 
'as located at the mouth of the Smilie Run, at the present site of Dawson, and 
■as owned by John and Robert Smilie, sons of John Smilie, Sr., who as early 
i 1786 took up by warrant a tract of 368 acres of land surrounding the present 
;)wn of Dawson. The Smilies were thus among the earliest settlers of this 
Drtion of the Yough region, and their- saw mill furnished much of the lumber 
r the boats built in this neighborhood, especially in the earlier day. This 
iact of land, originally taken up by John Smilie, was divided after a while 
;id one part sold to Steward Strickler and the other to George Dawson, of 
rownsville, father of the distinguished Hon. John L. Dawson. 

When the Pittsburgh and Connellsville Railroad was constructed up the 
i)rth bank of the Yough, a station was located here on Dawson's property, 
id naturally was called "Dawson's Station," at the same time a post office 
as established here, and soon a little village grew up; in 1866 a town plot was 
'id out, two years later the brick building, since known as the "Ebbert House," 
'is built and Samuel Smouse opened the first store. We can remember when 
'is new town was called "Bloomington," but why, we have been unable to 
i'lrn, and when the town became a borough in 1872 it was incorporated under 
e original name of "Dawson." The writer has a peculiar interest attaching to 
is thriving little business town, for not long after the time it became a bor- 

IJl 



ough, it became for a few years his home and dwelling place. It was here we 
began to receive almost our first recollected impressions of the world outside 
of the nursery and family circle. It was here, and we recall it very distinctly, 
we first attended public school, and became one of the crowd of hoping, fear- 
ing, wondering barefoot urchins that gathered around the lady teacher whose 
name we no longer remember, to receive their first lesson from the big "A, B, 
C" cards that were then in use for beginners. 

It was in the shadow of the old McKuen flouring mill that we made our 
first recollected boyhood acquaintance even before we went to school — Charlie 
McKuen, the son of A. C. McKuen, owner of the mill, and whose tragic death, 
in another of his father's mills, when he had grown to manhood, was a shock 
to all who knew him. It was from here we went forth on our first fishing 
trip, for the Yough was full of fish then. What a wonderful privilege to be 
allowed to wade out into the shallow running waters and with a hook and line 
that was all our ovm, try to inveigle a real live fish into doing us the honor of 
satisfying the greatest ambition of our boyhood. Once with his trousers rolled 
to his knees, the brave barefoot boy actually waded clear across the river — a 
most wonderful thing. Of course, he held to his father's hand, but it was not 
necessary to mention this when recounting the adventure to the timid boys 
who were afraid of the big river. 

It was here we got our first ideas of the one-time famous sport of shooting 
fish, when father would take the old long rifle which is still in our possession, 
go dovvm to the riffle below town and come back in a few hours wdth a fine 
string of fish, the puzzling thing about which was that we could seldom or 
never find where the bullets had hit them. When a few years older, we were ■ 
allowed to go along and to "go in and bring out the fish" when father shot 
them, and then it was explained to us that unlike the killing of other game it 
was not necessary to hit the fish to kill it. 

Long after hunting for turkeys and deer ceased to be a source of sport and 
family food supply, fishing in the Yough in a measure took its place until 25 
or 30 years ago, when the development of the coal industries had reached such 
an extent as to flood the old stream and all its tributaries with that death-deal- 
ing sulphur drainage from the mines, depopulating the water of every living 
creature. It is really sad to think of this wanton destruction of one the finest 
sources of pleasure, as well as of choicest food supply, that this region ever 
afforded. 

The valley of the Yough may be very much richer in industries, population ' 
and wealth in these later years, but it is sadly bankrupt and barren of that finer 
social life among its inhabitants and all that natural wealth of scenery, and fish ' 
and game that once made it the pride of as sturdy and upright a class of people 
as ever settled and built up a community. ' 

How it thrills and gladdens the heart of the old-time fisherman to set him 
talking of these earlier days, to ask him to relate his experience in shooting, or ' 
gigging or swabbing fish. No matter how tired with the day's toil, or how ' 

132 



bowed down with the weight of years and cares, and physical infirmities, men- 
tion "fish-shooting time" and he is all alive and young again, and if you express 
a desire to know something of this famous and exciting river sport he is with 
you for as long as you can find time to listen; and he enjoys it, too, and of 
course you do, because he does. He knows every spot along that river for 
miles and miles, every tree and rock and riffle; every likely eddy or bar or 
"hole," or did know, for it is all changed now. 

He will tell you he killed pike here, perch there and suckers all along the 
river. He will tell you that each variety of fish had its own particular season. 
For instance, the suckers were expected directly after corn-planting time, or 
when the sugar tree leaves were almost full size, or the dogwood blossom first 
looked white in the woods — these signs were closely watched, for sucker season 
'only lasted about a week, but oh, what sport in that one little week! It was 
their spawning time and they always deposited their spawn on bars or riffles 
where the water ran swift and shallow, hence our sportsman knew just where 
.o look for them. 

"Perch," on the contrary, spawned in still water, in some shallow "eddy" 
ilong a favorable shore, small islands or a protecting rock. Their season was 
;ater than that of the suckers, and lasted about a month. They made "nests" 

II which their spawn was deposited, and then remained near by until the eggs 
rere hatched and even for some time after apparently guarding the nest and 
the small fry" from intruders. 
The trained eye of the fisherman was quick to locate these so-called nests, 
nd knowing the habits of the fish, he was able to turn up many a fine big perch 
>here his less experienced friends had failed to get a shot. 

If he lived some miles from the river it was necessary to begin preparation 
le day or so before. The old long rifle was brought out and thoroughly 
eaned and oiled. This "fish gun" was no ordinary piece, and it was not every- 
body that possessed a rifle suitable for fish shooting. Of course, it was a 
ftiuzzle loader" of extra heavy weight and long barrel, and shot a bullet fully 
vice as large as that used in ordinary guns. (Fig. 14, page2I4) 

These bullets were moulded the night before, and lead alone being too soft 

r this work, our nimrod adds zinc enough to make an extra hard ball that will 

>t flatten on contact with the water. Everything is ready for getting off the 

ixt morning before day. The other members of the party — for it is not half 

much fun to go alone — will be met on the way, or at Mary's Riffle, or 

P"' ,;atty's Hole, or at the Lick Spring — some designated meeting place along the 

" . fcam. Some of the party are to do the shooting and others to bring out the 

^ h as they are killed. A convenient overhanging tree is selected that com- 

^'f' amds a view of the spawning grounds, or if this is not available, a sapling 

iiflold is easily erected by fastening together at the top three or four poles 

'^" ape 15 or 20 feet long, cut from the hillside nearby, nailing on these some 

rjgh cross-pieces, with possibly a small board or two at the top to sit on, and 

lt:ating this wherever it was most convenient. Having in one or the other of 



these ways gotten into position to have command of the situation, it was usually 
not long till the game began to show itself. Here again experience was the 
only teacher. The novice who attempted to kill fish by shooting directly at' 
them had but the empty gun and the laugh of his friends for his pains, for his 
bullet invariably struck the water beyond the fish and did no execution, while 
our veteran fish-shooter turned up one or even two or three fish every shot, 
for he had learned the deception of the water and knew to aim to shoot under 
the fish, knowing that his bullet passing directly under will kill the fish without^ 
hitting, although he would often so accurately gauge the distance and depth of 
the water that he could hit the fish if he so desired. Whether struck by the 
bullet or killed by the percussion shock of the ball passing under it, the fish im^ 
mediately turned white side up and came to the top of the water. The shooter 
would call to the boys on shore the number kil'ed and whether to go in after 
them at once or wait a few minutes and let them float down the stream some 
distance. | 

Sometimes it happened that a fine big fish was only stunned or crippled.' 
and then there was an exciting chase, the man in the tree of scaffold giving 
orders and guiding the assistant who plunged into the water after it. Oui; 
sportsman will tell you perhaps of many amusing and exciting incidents of this! 
kind, as, for instance, on that morning when an unusually large fish was barely 
cut through the back fins with a bullet, causing it to be crippled and stunned, 
but not so much disabled that it could not put off lively whenever the chaser | 
was about to lay hands on it; leading a most exciting race almost completely 
across the river before it was finally landed. Or when on another occasion 
with good shooting, and excitement running high, the frail scaffold suddenly 
gave way under the unusual stress and precipitated our worthy sportsman, 
gun and all, into the water. This, of course, was great fun for those on shore, 
but as you can readily understand, considerably dampened the ardor, to say 
nothing of the ammunition and clothing of the unfortunate victim of the wreck, 
who would be thus prevented from bagging as big a string of fish as his friend 
and rival on the next riffle, who after this would take particular delight every 
time his rifle cracked in calling out the results, as: "Hurry on, boys, two of' 
them, and big ones, too," and "Hurrah! the best shot to-day." 

These were great days, our old fish shooter will tell you. and there was 
much pride in holding the record for a day's shooting in sucker time. He will 
tell you of a number of his old friends, most of whom perhaps are now dead, 
who had reputations along this line. For instance, there is Joseph Oglevee, 
whose record with the rifle was hard to beat. He possessed one of the oldest 
and best guns in the country, and no one was more successful or got more en- 
joyment out of fish shooting time than he did. He is one of the oldest of the 
early fishermen now living, and still delights to recount many exciting times 
on the river, especially that morning when inside of a few hours he broke all 
previous records by killing 28 fish, ranging in size from two to five pounds, at 
thirteen shots. 

134 



:hoi 
'the 

1 

ootet 
aiter 
some 



GIGGING FISH. 

Gigging fish likewise brought its excitement and pleasures for our old- 
time sportsman. The expert giggers, as a rule, were an entirely different set 
of men from the riflemen. Just as in the work of the farm, or the crude indus- 
tries of the times, each man had his specialty in which he excelled, so in these 
> various ris'C- sports, one man was an expert gigger while perhaps his brother 
or neighbor excelled with the rifle, or at swabbing, or with hook and line. 

The "gig" was a rather heavy three-pronged steel tip, mounted on a handle 
^or pole some 10 to 15 feet long, and was used by dextrously hurling it so as to 
strike the fish, cr by means of the long pole-like handle, projecting it swiftly 
into the water at the fish without letting it go from the hand. 

David Galley and his son Henry, who is still living and who, by the way, 
enjoys the distinction of being the oldest Galley living at the present writing 
(August, 1907), were recognized far and near as the most expert giggers on the 
old Yough in the days of which we write. 
, Mr. Jacob Strickler,* who is mentioned elsewhere as the great flat-boat 
builder, and his brother Conrad, who also had a large part in the early boating 
industries, were both noted giggers. These men have all gone at least a decade 
beyond their allotted "three score years and ten," and yet when one mentions 
"gigging fish" to them they are "boys" again, and grow quite enthusiastic in 
telling how they used to enjoy this favorite sport. 

Gigging was done both by day and by night, but chiefly at night. Only the 
very best and most experienced giggers could have much success by daylight, 
because it was difficult to approach the fish in the small row-boats without their 
seeing and taking fright, so that most of the daylight gigging had to be done, as 
it were, "on the wing," and this required a good man to handle the boat while 
the giggsman stood in one end of the boat with his long-forked spear poised 
ready to hurl with all his strength in the direction of the fleeing fish; the boats- 



giving 
Our 
ai this 
barely 
unnei, 
chaser 
ipletely 
ccasioB 
id( 

nsmai, 
li 

" [inan shot his small skiff rapidly forward in the direction indicated until the 

'" j|:oveted five-pounder seemed to be within reach, when with one tremendous 

IS' "" ' 

ht evetj 
two 



" _^ sffort the gig went darting many feet through air and water to transfix its 
Drey, while as often, perhaps, the boat and boatsman rebounded in the opposite 
Jirection with such force as to dump its occupants into the water. 

Mr. Henry Galley, now of Riverside. California, gave us some very vivid 
iescriptions of this kind in which his father had more than once given him a 
udden plunge bath, but little was thought of a small matter like this if they 
ucceeded in capturing a good big fish. 

When the gigging was done at night, some kind of a torch light was neces- 
ary. Usually, a large bundle of split sticks wrapped up together was used, 
'his wooden torch when properly made would blaze up fine and make quite an 
estof'f fficient light for some time, and with some one to hold this light, the gigsman 
tin? ""i^ould see far enough ahead to locate the fish very nicely, and could approach 

broken; 

poiinds»|| =NDied May 17, 1908. 

135 



here «^ 
He«il 

lOW 

Ogl:v« 
the olc 
more 



I 



much nearer and therefore rhake much surer work with his gig than by day, 
light. 

Sometimes again in this method of fishing the fish would be only woundec 
and there would follow a lively chase before it was finally landed in the boat 
Of course there were the favorite spots along the river for gigging as well asi 
for angling or shooting the fish, and there was likewise much rivalry as to whc 
should hold the gigging record. The different gigging parties prided them 
selves on the number of big fish they could catch, or the large total number o 
pounds representing the evening's work. One of these old giggers abov< 
named takes great delight to this day in telling of a certain night's sport at th< 
"Little Falls," in which he alone made the proud record of gigging 62 pound; 
of fish in one evening. 



SWABBING FISH. 

A third method of fishing in the old-time Yough, which, in some respect 

was even more exciting than the two we have just described, was that o 

"swabbing." A "fish swabbing" in the olden times meant a day's frolic on thi 

river and on most occasions a fine string of fish for each one who participated 

It was by far the largest fishing affair that the good old days afforded, an( 
usually took place in August or just after the farmers were well through vdtl 
the harvest. 

Some two or three neighbors would get together and plan for a "swabbing 
on a certain date a week or so hence. They would then start out to invite th^ 
country side far and near, or at least until they were assured of at least fifty t 
a hundred men. 

Neighbors usually responded to the call, for it meant lots of fun, ventur 
and excitement. At the appointed time and place the swabbers began to ar 
rive by dozens early in the morning, bringing the day's food provisions wit] 
them. Some suitable man was usually chosen to act as captain or officer c 
the day so as to systematize the working of the men. 

First a suitable part of the river was selected, which was a riffle or shal 
lows near a well-known or likely "hole." These so-called "holes" also referred 
to elsewhere, were simply deep portions of the river probably from one to tw 
or three hundred yards in extent, and were known to be the rendezvous, as i 
were, of the fish. Having decided what "hole" was to be swabbed, a large par 
of the swabbing party was put to work building the dam and "pot" while th 
rest of the men made the "swab." 

The dam was made by piling up the loose stone of the river bed into tw 
long walls extending in from either side of the stream, and converging towar 
the "pot" or small circular enclosure at the angle of junction. 

The "swab" was made by twisting or weaving together a number of Ion 
grape-vines tied up with ropes and the bark of saplings until of sufficient lengt 
to reach nearly across the river. To this stout rustic cable was fastened a grea 
number of small brushy tree-tops so as to hang down six or eight feet and mat 

136 



11 by daj 

7 wounjd (■ 
: tht boat 
Js well as 
'as to 

■ :ed them. 



Etrs above 
;port at the 
I 82 pounds 



I 

of it all a great sweep of brush so thickly woven that the fish could scarcely get 
through. This swab, when thus constructed, was quite heavy and required 
many men to handle it. The dam and pot having been completed and the swab 
all ready, the fun and excitement began. 

The swab was taken to the upper end of the "hole" and stretched across the 
stream. A crowd of men laying hold of each end of the swab, to haul it, some- 
times a horse or two was used for this purpose, and a number of the best swim- 
mers appointed to "ride the swab" or go out along its course and hold it down 
into the hole, which was sometimes quite deep and made this part of the work 
rather dangerous except to those who were good swimmers. As the great swab 
was thus made to sweep the depths of the stream, the fish were driven ahead 
of it and as the men hauled in the ends toward the wings of the dam below, 
coming now into shallow water, the swarms of frightened fish made a sight well 
calculated to raise the excitement to the highest pitch. As the distance nar- 
rowed down, the ends of the swab were doubled in to make it the most secure 
against the escape of the fish, which were now fast being driven through the 
opening at the angle of the dam into the "pot," the fish in the meantime leap- 
ing and tearing through the shallow water in every direction, sometimes in their 
frantic efforts to escape, jumping clear out of the water over the top of the 
swab, or over the wall of the dam. Our old fishermen tell us great "fish stor- 
ies" of the happenings on these occasions and especially when the finny hordes 
were finally swept into the "pot," where with a boat or two and dip-nets the 
work of actually catching the fish began. Here was a regular circus. Big fish 
ind little all heartlessly driven to bay in his little stone pen where they sought 
n vain to evade their pursuers, sometimes flopping themselves into the boat 
)r over the rim of the pot. On one occasion a large fish leaped from the water 
vith such force that it struck square in the breast of one of the men standing 
n the boat, who quickly flopped his arms together over his breast and held the 
ish secure, making a most novel method of catching fish. When the fish were 
inally all killed or taken from the pot in various ways, they were taken ashore 
ind counted. Then came the work of dividing the spoils and giving each man 
r family his share of the "catch." This was usually done by parceling the fish 
ff into as many piles as there were men to receive them. Then two men were 
--, one to twojj^Qggj^ ^^ assign the piles impartially to the crowd. One of these stood with 
...yvous, as It jg back to the fish with the men in front of him, while the second with a pole 



m respects 
liS that oi 
irolic on the 
panidpated 
jiorded, and 
•jiough witli 



i 

t to invite the 
: least 

:.:., venturt 
:, ivitt 



a Of Officer ot 

J nle or shal- 
s'slsoreierreJ 



Ki a large pa" 
'^f flfhile* 

p'jedintoW" 
..^^btroilo"? 



1 his hand would point to a pile of fish and ask: "Whose pile is this?" The 
istributor would thereupon name at random one of the men in front of him, 
nd so on until all were distributed. While the object was to make the piles of 
sh as nearly equal as possible, yet of course there was bound to be consider- 
ble inequality in size or quality of fish, and we are told some very shrewd 
nderhand tricks were sometimes played by conniving groups of men to get the 
est of the divide. For instance, the pointer in indicating a certain desirable 
le to be assigned would strike his pole twice or three times on the ground 
;j,,t!iedag'"'|jparently carelessly enough, but so as to give a secret signal to the assigner 



;andm*| 



137 



who would thus know to give the pile to a favorite friend. So we see thi 
"sharp practices" and dishonorable "games" were not wholly unknown in th 
"good old times" of the past. But such things were the exception and thei 
was usually so much good hearty sport and such a fine mess of fresh fish f< 
their trouble that a day's swabbing on the old Yough was an event never to I 
forgotten. 

We also recall while living here another not uncommon means of obtainir 
wild game. The river used to be frequented by great numbers of wild duck 
and duck-shooting was, while it lasted, a lively sport. Sometimes it was m 
necessary to shoot them to get all the ducks that were wanted. The river 
that time was not bridged, and the two or three flat ferry-boats that were ri 
as pubic conveyances were guided by overhead wire cables, spanning the riv 
some fifteen or twenty feet above the water, and being but little noticeable, fiocl 
of ducks flying swiftly up or down the stream would strike these ferry wir 





'i?^ 






% 




fS>.^ 



.■■A"jy 



BIRD'vSEYI'. VII'AV ()!• "C.AMJvV TOWN" (I)ICKE;RS0N RUN). 



Riverside School. 



Dawson, Liberty Hill. 

Voughiogheny River. Site of Reunion (irov 

The lowing Galley (formerly Strickler) Plac 

138 



• 



1 r.rov 

.'plJI 



and many of the birds would be killed or so stunned that they would fall into 
the water, where with skiffs they could be gathered up with comparative ease. 

As we remember it, there were two ferries — one near where the bridge now 
is and one at the lower end of town opposite the home of Henry Galley. Of 
course this was long before there was any signs of a town on the south side of 
the river nearer than the old village of East Liberty on the hill above. The 
Galley homestead surrounded by its orchards and fertile fields was the sole oc- 
cupant of the "bottoms" now covered from the mouth of Dickerson Run, al- 
most to Riverside School, with one continuous town and with railroads and car 
shops, round houses, depot, etc. 

The P. & L. E. R. R. is chiefly responsible for this change. Even old "Lib- 
erty" itself, a village that has appeared ancient as long as the "oldest inhabitant" 
can remember, was in a measure rejuvenated by the advent of this railroad, and 
the birth of a sister town at Dickerson Run. 

Just how far back into the pioneer days the history of Liberty goes, is a 
little difficult to tell — certainly as far as 1792, for we are told that in the fall 
of that year Andrew Byers built the first house on the site of the present vil- 
lage. A number of the original log-houses of the old town were still standing 
until a few years ago. One of these bore the date of 1796 on its chimney, an- 
other the date 1797. Only one or two of the log-houses, which were all built 
prior to 1810, are yet standing. Thus the town seems to have been started as 
early as 1792 to 1796, but that there was a settlement here long before this 
seemed equally certain, for one of the earliest settlers in all this region was 
Joshua Dickerson, from whom the "Run" gets its name and the town, Dicker- 
son Run. It is supposed that he came over the mountains looking for a loca- 
tion in this "western region" about 1770, or near that time. 

He found the Yough region a forest-covered wilderness at that time, swarm- 
ing with wild animals and Indians, but with all, an attractive and promising 
land. It is said that this hardy pioneer came alone and on foot, and that he 
first camped under an oak tree on the high bluff that overlooks the river, just 
above East Liberty. He at once set to work to build up a settlement in this 
region, but had not been long here when the Indians began to make their ap- 
pearance in the neighborhood and he decided it was not a safe place for a lone 
seltler, so he rather hastily retraced his tracks over the mountains to his East- 
ern home. In a year or so, having learned that the Indian dangers had sub- 
sided he again came "out West," this time bringing his wife and child and prob- 
ably another settler or two, for he came to stay. On his arrival at the old 
camping ground he built a cabin, and began to clear the land and till the soil. 
It was not long after this that his little colony again learned that the Indians 
had not entirely deserted the region, and there was great fear that they would 
give the settlers trouble. 

We read in an early chronicle of the time that "Dickerson never went out 
to his field to work vidthout taking his wife with him, who, while he worked, 
would keep watch with a gun in hand, and after a time would take the hoe while 

139 



i 



he did sentinel duty. Naturally enough, they believed that the Indians were 
likely to butcher them at any time. Eternal vigilance was for them the con- 
stant watchword. 

"Despite their fears they never came to any harm through the Indians. Mr. 
Dickerson was eminently a pioneer and for years battled almost single handed 
among the wilds of this region, apart from other settlers and met at every turn 
such privations, trials and toils as would have checked his progress and sent him 
back to the haunts of civilization had he not possessed a heart of oak and a 
courageous stout-souled helpmate who bore like a heroine her full share of the 
burden." 

It is said that on one occasion when it became necessary for Dickerson to 
go over the mountains with his pack-horses for salt and other supplies that 
could not be obtained in the new country, he found that his amunition had run 
so short that he only had two bullets left for his rifle. With one of these he 
killed a bear, whose carcass supplied his family with meat while he was absent, 
and with the other he killed game for his own sustenance during his journey 
ever the mountains. 

Tradition tells us that Dickerson and Samuel Rankin, another of the pion- 
eers, bought their first land from the Indians, giving a pair of blankets in ex- 
change for a large tract of land around about East Liberty. Whether this 
be true or not we know that Dickerson lived to see this region blossom and 
teem with civilized life, and that he became a large land holder in this portion 
of the Yough region, and that he died upon the homestead farm near East Lib- 
erty, October 10, 1827, in his eighty-eighth year. 

Mr. Dickerson was a strict Methodist, and for some years maintained 
preaching at his house. In 1823 he materially assisted in the erection of the 
first church building in this region, the Methodist Episcopal House of Worship, 
which had a flourishing congregation with all the fervor and spirit of old-time 
Methodism, especially at revival times, up until 1861, when war-time politics 
got into the organization in such a way as to lead to its early downfall. The 
building ceased to be used as a church and was converted into a dwelling house, 
which is still standing at the east end of Walnut Street. 

About the year 1780, it is also said, that Mr. Dickerson built a grist mill 
on the run which bears his name at the site of the present flour and planing 
mills and owned by Oglevee and McClure. Joseph Oglevee, the grandfather 
of the Oglevee brothers, and who came here from Maryland in 1788, built a 
sawmill a short distance below Dickerson's grist mill in 1792. Later, a nail- 
making shop and a sickle factory were also built about the same location. 

William McBurney, one of the prominent early citizens of the old town, 
was born here in 1808, his father, Robert McBurney, a blacksmith, having come 
here from Maryland about 1798. At that time there was a small collection of 
log-houses, including that of Andrews Byers, the tavern keeper, and Samuel 
Brown, a hatter, who then lived in what was thought to be the first house built 
in the place, and the house later occupied for many years by William McBurney 

140 



ipist 

ai plani"! 

;jj, built J 
iter, I nail- , 
oaoon. 

K old to* 

tofiDjtOfflt 

od Saffl"'! 
« boose b* 



and later by his descendants for several generations. It is more than probable 
that Josiah Allen kept a store here as early as 1799. In 1814 Matthew Cannon 
kept a store and a tavern in the village, and following him came William Mc- 
Mullen as a trader. In 1823 Robert McBurney gave up his blacksmith shop to 
one of his sons and opened a more extensive store than any that had so far 
been kept. 

It was customary in those earlier days to sell whiskey in these village stores, 
the same as groceries and dry goods, and this, together with two or three tav- 
erns, made East Liberty in its younger years as notorious for its turmoil and 
bad conduct as it has been in later years for its quiet habits and good behavior. 
In 1826 East Liberty secured a post office with John McBurney as first post 
master, followed in time by William Beatty, Samuel F. Randolph, Robert Mc- 
Burney, Jr., Joseph Oglevee, Susan Ransom, William McBurney, John Stoner 
and Daniel Reynolds. In 1874 the rival village of Alexandria (now Vander- 
bilt), which is about a mile further up Dickerson Run, made a strong fight for, 
and finally secured the post office, and has kept it ever since. 

Oglevee Brothers (Joseph and P. G.) have conducted the leading store in 
the town for the past fifty years. Joseph Oglevee, who established the store 
in 1856, was born in the same year that Joshua Dickerson died, and is therefore 
one of the oldest citizens of the town, and being yet remarkably active, mentally 
and physically (August, 1907), the writer has found him of great service in se- 
curing material for these sketches. The other member of this firm, Philip Gal- 
ley Oglevee, though not able to go back to as early a date as his brother, has 
had part in so much of the life and times of this region for the past half cen- 
tury that his help to the writer has been invaluable. 

In the days when the "Little Falls" was a flourishing village with a forge 
going, sawm.ill, grst-mxill, etc., besides other industries, altogether furnishing em- 
loyment for quite a number of men. East Liberty was quite an active business 
lace. It was the market and business centre for the "Falls" industries. 

Here were the residences of most of the employes at the iron works, and 

Ithe chief stores were here. A peculiar feature of local trade and commerce in 

those days was the scarcity of money. Rather the small amount of money 

hat was necessary to carry on business and the use instead of money in the 

oayment of wages and in the barter of the daily life, the products of the com- 

nunity, such as salt meat, grain, etc., and at the time of which we write with 

he "Little Falls" iron works in full blast, the product of this forge, the "char- 

:oal, hammered bar iron," was not an uncommon medium of trade in lieu of 

noney. As an evidence of the business methods of the times, as well as for 

he various other interests that attach to it, we have inserted here a copy of a 

j jiost interesting school contract written in 1811, and kindly furnished to the 

uthor by Mr. George McBurney, who has for many years been a storekeeper 

1 East Liberty, following in the paths of his great-grandfather, Robert Mc- 

i'.urney, who as we have above noted, established the first store of any con- 

derable size when the old town was in its infancy. 

141 



"We whose names are hereunto subscribed do agree to employ Willian 
Scott, Jr., for the term of five months, commencing the 4th day of November 
1811, for the purpose of teaching the scholars we shall entrust to his care th< 
rules of spelling, reading, writing and arithmetic as far as his ability and theii 
capacity will admit of in that time at the rate of two dollars and fifty cent; 
each scholar, payable one-half in cash, the other half in merchantable wheat 
rye, corn or bar iron at market price, delivered either at Jacob Leet's mill, oi 
if iron at Robert McBurney's, Esq. 

"And further, we agree to meet at the schoolhouse, before the commence 
ment of the school, and appoint three suitable persons as Trustees, whose dut] 
it shall be to see that the school house be put and kept in good repair and suf 
ficiency of firing and likewise one or more of them to attend in succession oni 
evening in each month to do such duties as would be profitable for the schoo 
and if need require, either at the request of the master, or employers, all ar( 
to convene, and if the master should commit any misdemeanor, he shall bi 
suffered to collect pay in proportion to the time he has kept, and be turned of 
by the Trustees, and if he himself should render a sufficient reason to the trus 
tees for discontinuing at any time, he is likewise to have the same privilege an< 
no employer after the school is closed shall have the privilege of sending mor^ 
than one scholar in proportion to three at a time to make up any lost time 
and further, we agree to give the master one day in every two weeks for hi 
own use, in testimony of which we have set our hands to this agreement thi 
30th day of October, 1811." (Then follow the list of subscribers in their owi 
hand writing, with the number of scholars each one sent.) Joseph Ogleve( 
(writer's great-grandfather) was the first of the list with three scholars. 



Joseph Oglevee 
Jam.es Cunningham 
Benjamin Atkins 
Thomas Parker 
Noah Miller 
Robert McBurney 
Alexander Moreland 
Joseph Bell 
Harry Brison 
William Kirk 
Samuel Brown 
John Graham 
George Cox 



James Jelly 
Archibald Downey 
Jacob Lighty 
Thomas Jones 
Robert Dougan 
John Barricklow 
Daniel McMullan 
Isaac Byers 
David Byers 
George Barricklow 
William Johnson 
Samuel Rankin 



John Dougen 

John Cooley 

John Wining 

George Flake 

Nancey Hare 

George Pery 

George Grimes 

Robert Jamison 

John Leslie 

J. Work's Administrators 

James Sloan 

Matthew Gilchrist 

Harry Stacman." 



Robert Crawford 

The following was added later: 

"Saturday, November 2, 1811. The subscribers 
according to appointment and chose the following 
Samuel Brown, Robert Jamison and George Cox, 
ployers agree to close the school at thirty-five scholars, unless the trustees shal 
consent that more shall be taken. 



to the within Article me 
persons as trustees, viz. 
and the master and em 



1-42 



I 



11, or 



1 



We have made mention above of the "Little Falls" and its one-time flour- 
ishing industries. To the older citizens of this part of the Yough region, and of 
the adjoining country for many miles back from the river, the name "Little 
Falls" is one filled with interest because of its association with the early life 
and industries of the region. 

In the year 1800 George Lamb built a forge on the Yough River about two 
miles below Dickerson Run at the mouth of what is now known as Furnace 
Run, but what was then called Arnold's Run, so named from the fact that it 
had its head waters in the Arnold settlement some five or six miles back from 
the river, on the road leading from East Liberty past Flatwoods and on to 
Brownsville. The old Arnold log school house stood at the head of this run 
until about the year 1834 when it was replaced by a brick building on the same 
site, and in 1858 this was superseded by the present stone building a mile 
further back, known as Buena Vista School. 

Lamb soon sold his forge to Nathaniel Gibson, who built a furnace on the 
run, a short distance above the forge, and undertook to make the iron for his 
forge from ore found in the neighborhood. This he found was not entirely 
practical or satisfactory, and he was obliged to haul his ore a great distance 
across country or use pig-metal from the Connellsville furnace. A grist-mill, 
saw-mill, small store and some temporary dwelling houses for the workmen, 
together with a fine stone mansion house, which Gibson built for himself, made 
up the little village which for a number of years was quite a live business place. 
While the furnace and forge were comparatively small, yet the bar iron here 
made as before menticned had quite a reputation and was shipped dovim the 
river in boats, or hauled to various points in wagons, besides being used in 
the trade of the neighborhood in exchange for store goods and other commodi- 
ties of daily life. We find it rather amusing at the present day to contemplate 
the use of such heavy "currency," but it only emphasizes one of the hardships 
of the times of our hard-working forefathers — the scarcity of money. 

We have seen somewhere a statement by one of these early business men 
who conducted quite a large iron manufacturing business for three years, during 
which time he only saw $10.00 in money. Equally strange to us is the criticism 
that was at one time offered on this same region by some one who said the 
country west of the Alleghenies would "n^ver amount to much because it was 
without iron or salt." 

How Gibson and his co-temporaries of the Little Falls furnace days would 
open their eyes in astonishment at the abundance of both money and iron in 
the region of their early endeavors! 

Gibson, it is said, did not make a great success of the iron business here, 
and about the year 1825 he sold the works and all its outfit to F. H. Oliphant, 
who made some improvements and named the plant the "Franklin Iron Works." 
Oliphant conducted the business for some years and sold out to Miltenberger 
and Brown, who continued the work until 1839, when they closed down and thus 
brought to an end the life of the place as a business centre. The several mills 

143 



gradually went down, the village disappeared in a few years and only the "Stone 
House" now remains; in fact, the place is now more often than otherwise re- 
ferred to as the "Stone House." The writer, along with one who used to be 
familiar with the furnace and its surroundings in his boyhood, visited the spot 
recently, and outside of the stone house could find absolutely no trace of all 
that was once here except the outline of the old race course that conducted the 
water to the forge wheel. From what our guide on this occasion told us, this 
forge must have been an interesting piece of machinery in comparison with the 
giant forges of the present day. The "race" ran a large wooden water-wheel, 
which had for a spindle the trunk of a tree, on the opposite end of which from 
the wheel, were two heavy iron spikes some six or eight feet long, projecting 
through the log at right angles to each other, so that as the shaft revolved the 




.'-.4^ ;j.j^is?i^' 




Z- ^>"' 






"vSTONE HOUSE"— SITE Ol' IJTTIJv FALLS VILI.A(;E AND IRON WURKS. 
Furnace stood to left of house. F'orge to right and in foreground of picture. 

four arms of these spikes would each in its turn catch the beam of the crude 
forge hammer, lifting it and letting it fall in slow stroke upon the red hot 
"pigs" of iron that were manipulated by hand until they were thus hammered 
out into "blooms" ready for market. 

On the run where the furnace stood not one stone remains upon another 
to mark the spot, and we refreshed ourselves with wild berries growing amidst 
the wilderness of trees that has sprung up in the mouldering ashes of a once 

famous pioneer in the great iron industries of Western Pennsylvania. 

******* 

The name "Little Falls" dates back to the earliest flat-boat navigation on 

144 



the Yough. A rough, rapid and tortuous stream at best, it is especially so at 
this point, where it makes an abrupt turn in its course from northwest to south- 
west and for the distance of a quarter of a mile or more the river bed drops 
several feet, causing a rough "rapids" covering this distance, rather than an 
actual water fall. This was the "little falls" in contradistinction to the "big 
falls" farther down the river. The narrow, rough channel, the swift current 
and the sharp curve made this one of the difficult points; in fact, the first real 
danger point in the early Yough navigation. At the lower end of this so-called 
falls, and but a short distance below the site of the old furnace and forge, the 
river again makes a sharp bend to the northwest, and on the river bank, in the 
very elbow of this bend, is located the "Lick Spring," giving rise to the name 
at this point in the river, the "Lick Spring Bend." Here again was a boat- 



T 




Little Falls in distance. 



LICK SPRING BKXI). 
Old-time Flat Boat. Site of forge behind clump of trees. 



I 



wrecking spot. The descent through the swift current of the "falls" above, gave 
the boats such speed that it was sometimes impossible to prevent their being 
dashed against the rocky banks of the sharp "Lick Spring Curve." Many 

145 



persons yet living recall in the later boating years the wrecking at this point of 
a large cargo of coke owned by Colonel Hill. The wreckage of this boat lay 
here for many years, and became a well-known fishing spot. 

The original "Lick Spring," which was destroyed by the building of the 
P. and L. E. R. R., but the waters of which are still obtainable from the hill- 
side, was so named because of its being a "deer lick" in the days of the pion- 
eers. If. waters, or the earth about it, must have contained sufficient salt to 
attract the deer, which in those days were quite plentiful in this region. 

As an evidence of this latter fact, it is related that the great-grandfather of 
the writer, who in his time had some local fame as a hunter, thought nothing of 
mounting his horse in the early morning, and with gun and dogs, riding across 
the river near this point, and on over a little distance into the "neck," where 
he would turn the dogs into the thicket, and in short time shoot two deer wdth- 
out getting off his horse. As a further evidence of the plentifulness of game in 
this region in the days of our great-grandparents, and of the scarcity of am- 
munition, especially of lead, which was hard to get from over the mountains, 
we are told that this same hunter would not shoot at a wild turkey or other 
small game unless he could get it in range with the trunk of a tree, so that if he 
missed, he could recover his bullet for further use. These facts sound rather 
remarkable now to some of the modern gunning sports of the Yough region, 
who with their fancy repeating rifles and double-barreled breech-loading and 
magazine shotguns, would be willing to waste a barrel of ammunition and to 
spend a small barrel of money if need be to get even the sight of a wald turkey 
or deer! 

So much for the "Little Falls," its industries, dangers and surroundings, in 
its palmy days of old. We have said that here was the first real danger point 
in flat-boating on the Yough. This, however, was only the beginning of trouble 
for the pilots of old. For the next four or five miles the river is full of perils 
for ihe navigator, only less dangerous than those he had just passed. The 
rnurse continues crooked and narrow and rocky, culminating in the "Big Falls" 
= ome seven miles below Dawson and but a short distance above Layton Sta- 
tion. Here again the bend in the river is quite sharp, and projecting rocks on 
both sides of the stream narrow the "rapids" down to not more than sixty or 
eighty feet, and this, together with the rapid fall in the grade of the river bed, 
combined to make here the crisis in the downward voyage, and many a staunch 
boat with its cargo has gone to wreck on these rocks and not a few lives have 
been lost from the crews of these wrecked boats. 

When our readers recall what has already been said as to boating being 
practical only in high water time, with the old mountain stream converted into 
a maddened raging torrent of the most dare-devil nature, and when it is re- 
called that a boat's crew usually consisted of from eighteen to twenty-four men, 
there will be little wonder that many a boat was dashed to pieces, and still less 
wonder that in the event of such a catastrophy it occasionally happened that 
one or more of the:-e men lost their lives. It is related that in 1805 a man 

140 



named Morehead was drowned here by the wrecking of a flat-boat. In 1807 
another boat was wrecked, with the drowning of one man. In 1810 a man 
named Dougherty, while under the influence of liquor, attempted to ford the 
river at this point, and was drowned. In 1814 a flat-boat loaded with pig metal 
was sunk here, and one man was drowned. In the same year George Ebbert 
and Martin Kennedy, both of Perryopolis, were drowned here in trying to take 
through the falls a raft of logs. In 1822 a man while attempting to jump from 
an iron-loaded flat-boat, which had passed safely through the falls, fell under 
the river and was drowned. In 1834 a crew of men were bringing a cargo. of 




THE "BIG FALLS" (AT LOW WATER). 



coal down the river during a "freshet." which struck the rocks and went to 
pieces in the falls, drowning four of their number — Andrew Burtt, John Frank- 
lin, Andrew Knight and Wesley Johns. Two years later Andrew Bobb was 
killed near here while assisting in the overturning of a flat-boat. In 1839 Uriah 
Strickler was drowned while attempting to take a boat through the "Falls." 
and so we might go on, if space would permit, to tell of other deaths and many 

147 



thrilling adventures and rescues in this connection, not only here at the "Big 
Falls." but at the other noted points all along the river. 

If lives were not always imperiled or lost in these hazardous trips at flood- 
time, often entire fortunes were, for many a man, especially in the early coke- 
making days, worked the greater part of a year to prepare it and invested every 
dollar of his previous savings in the boat and its cargo, which, if successfully 
piloted through all these dangers, and into a profitable market, would net him 




J,()\VIvR ICNI) OF THE " BKi FALLvS." 

This picture looks up the river, and shows the narrow rocky bend just above 
Layton Station, where many an old-time flat-Doat with its carjjo has gone to pieces, 
leaving its owner in deep water financially, if not literally, or both, for ofttiines all a 
man hail to show for a year's work was risked in one of these perilous trips down the 
"Dare Devil Vough " at flood time. 



a sum of several thousand dollars, which, as money counted in those days, was 
a neat little fortune. 

One who descends the course of this river now, and who knew it sixty or 
seventy years ago, can scarcely realize that it is the same stream. The B. & 
O. R. R. on one bank and the P. & L. E. R. R. on the other, have in many 



instances marred the old landmarks and destroyed the natural beauty of the 
scenery by grading down and filling in the river banks, and by the stimulation 
cf industries that have led to the cutting away of timber and the growth of lit 
tie towns here and there throughout its course. It now seems more like an 
ever-flowing streami cf coke cars than a current of water. One can almost 
imagine that during the last fifty years this once beautiful mountain river, with 
its tributary creeks and runs extending out among the hills and valleys, gath- 
ering up the water from a thousand springs and rivulets to pour them into the 
common current, has been slowly transformed into one great stream of coal 
and coke, flowing down by means of the two railroads where the river used to 
be, and fed by the many branch roads that reach out here and there to the 
thousands of munes and ovens, from v/hich are welling forth apparently as ex- 
haustless a flow as that which once came from the hillside springs. 

It could scarcely have been dreamed by the most visionary enthusiast of 
the pioneer coke days that the little stream of coke flowing irregularly down 
the Yough Valley by means of the flat-boats in the early forties, could so 
shortly grow into the great swelling river of the present day, carrjang in its 
current every year the millions of tons of coal and coke that flow in from all 
sides like the waters of its prototype of old. 



One of these tributary streams of more than ordinary historic interest is 
Wa&hington Run, which flows northwestward through a most beautiful and 
rich section of farming country and empties in the Yough at Layton, or just 
I below the "Big Falls" of which we have lately been speaking. This run took 

r its name, as is well knov/n, from the earliest and most extensive land owner 
in the territory which it drains, George Washington, who received a warrant 
for lands here on the day of the opening of the land office of the proprietories 
for the sale of tracts west of the mountains, April 3, 1769. Nearly two years 
prior to this, however, Washington had begun to entertain the idea of pur- 
chasing large tracts in this region as is shown by the tenor of a letter written 
by him to Colonel William Crawford, of Stewart's Crossing (now New Haven), 
as follows: 

"Mt. Vernon, Sept. 21, 1767. 
"Dear Sir: — From a sudden hint of your brother's I wrote to 
you a few days ago in a hurry. Having since had more time for 
reflection, I now write deliberately and with greater precision on 
the subject of my last letter. I then desired the favor of you (as 
I understood rights might now be had for the lands which have 
fallen within the Pennsylvania line) to look me out a tract of about 
fifteen hundred, two thousand or more acres somewhere in your 
neighborhood, meaning only by this that it may be as contiguous 
to your own settlement as such a body of good land can be found. 
It will be easy for you to conceive that ordinary or even middling 
lands would never answer my purpose or expectation, so far from 

149 
11 



navigation and under such a load of expense as these lands are 
incumbered with. No; a tract to please me must be rich (of which 
no person can be a better judge than yourself) and, if possible, 
level. Could such a piece of land be found you would do me a sin- 
gular favor in falling upon some method of securing it immediately 
from the attempts of others, as nothing is more certain than that 
the lands cannot remain long ungranted when once it is known 
that rights are to be had." 
No information is found as to the preliminary steps taken by Captain 
Crawford to select and secure these lands on behalf of Washington, but it is 
certain that on the opening of the land-office at the time above mentioned war- 
rants were issued for lands in the present towmship of Perry amounting to more 
than sixteen hundred acres, all of which came into possession of the General. 
Captain Crawford, who selected these lands for Washington, acted also 
as his agent in locating many other tracts in what is now Washington County, 
Pa., in Ohio and along the Ohio River Valley in Virginia. 

In 1770, the year next following the location and survey of these lands', 
Washington made a tour through this section and down the Ohio to the Great 
Kanawha and kept a journal of the trip. A part of that journal is given be- 
low, commencing on the date of his departure from Mt. Vernon, viz.: 

"October 5th: — Began journey to the Ohio in company with Dr. 
Craik, his servant and two of mine, with a led horse and bag- 
gage. Dined at Towlston's and lodged at Leesburg, distant 
from Mt. Vernon about forty-five miles. Here my portmanteau 
horse failed." (Here follows the journal of six days' journey 
by way of Old Towne, Md., and Ft. Cumberland to Killman's, 
east of Castleman's River.) 
"12th — We left Killman's early in the morning, breakfasted at the 
Little Meadow, ten miles off and lodged at the Great Crossing 
(of the Youghiogheny at Somerfield), twenty miles farther, 
which we found a tolerably good day's work. 
"13th: — Set out about sunrise, breakfasted at the Great Meadows 
(Fayette Co.), thirteen miles, and reached Captain Crawford's 
about five o'clock. The land from Gist's (Mount Braddock) 
to Crawford's is very broken, though not mountainous, in 
spots exceedingly rich and in general free from stone; Craw- 
ford's is very fine land, lying on the Youghiogheny, at a place 
commonly called 'Stewart's Crossing.' 
"14th: — At Captain Crawford's all day. Went to see a coal mine 
not far from his house on the banks of the river. The coal 
seemed of the very best kind, burning freely and abundance 
of it. 
"15th: — Went to view some land which Captain Crawford located 
for me near the Youghiogheny, distant about twelve miles. 

150 



This tract, which contains about one thousand six hundred 
acres, includes some as fine land as I ever saw, and a great deal 
of rich meadow; it is well watered and has a valuable millseat, 
except that the stream is rather too slight, and, it is said, not 
constant more than seven or eight months in the year; but on 
account of the fall and other conveniences, no place can exceed 
it. In going to this land I passed through two other tracts 
which Captain Crawford had procured for Lund Washington 
this day also, but time falling short, I was obliged to postpone 
it. Night came on before I got back to Crawford's, where I 
found Colonel Stephen. The lands which I passed over to-day 
were generally hilly and the growth chiefly white oak, but very 
good notwithstanding; and which is extraordinary and contrary 
to the property of all other lands I ever saw before, the hills 
are the richest land, the soil upon the sides and summits of 
them being as black as coal and the growth walnut and cherry. 
The flats are not so rich, and a good deal more mixed with 
stone. 

"16th: — At Captain Crawford's till evening, when I went to Mr. 
John Stephenson's on my way to Pittsburg. 

"17th: — Dr. Craik and myself, with Captain Crawford and others, 
arrived at Fort Pitt, distance from the Crossing about forty- 
three and a half measured miles." 

On the 20th, Washington with Dr. Craik, Captain Crawford, William Har- 
rison, Robert Beall and others, with some Indians, proceeded down the Ohio 
in a large canoe, having sent their servants back to Crowford's with orders to 
meet the party there on the 14th of November, but they did not reach there 
until ten days after the time appointed. The journal then proceeds: 

"Nov. 24th: — When we came to Stewart's Crossing at Crawford's. 
the river was too high to ford, and his canoe gone adrift. 
However, after waiting there two or three hours, a canoe was 
got, in which we crossed and swum our horses. The remainder 
of the day I spent at Captain Crawford's, it either raining 
or snowing hard all day. 
"25th: — I set out early in order to see Lund Washington's land; 
but the ground and trees being covered with snow I was able 
to form but an indistinct opinion of it. though upon the whole 
it appeared to be a good tract of land. From this I went to 
Mr. Thomas Gist's and dined, and then proceeded to the Great 
Crossings at Hogland's, where I arrived about eight o'clock." 
From there he journeyed back to Mount Vermont by the route over which 
he came. 

It is evident from the language of Washington's journal above quoted that 
the tracts of his brothers, Samuel and John A. Washington, were on the route 

151 



from Captain Crawford's (New Haven) to his own land at and near the site 
of the present town of Perryopolis, but that Lund (Lawrence) Washington's 
land lay some distance away from the direct route. It has not been ascer- 
tained to whom the title of these lands passed nor their exact location. 

In the extracts above given from Washington's journal of 1770 it will be 
noticed that he makes reference to a mill-seat on the small stream (since named 
Washington Run) which flowed through his tract. It was his purpose to build 
a mill at this place and preparations were soon after commenced for it by Gil- 
bert Simpson, whom Washington sent out as manager of his property here. 
His first business, however, was to erect a log house, which stood adjoining 
the present residence of John Rice. This was the farmhouse which was the 
headquarters of the operations carried on by Simpson for the proprietor. The 




v^ 



OniST MILL. DUILT AND OPERATED CY CEOnnE WASHINGTON. 



mill was built on the run in the immediate vicinity of the present village of 
Perryopolis. From the time of its completion until the present (with the ex- 
ception of a few years prior to 1790) a mill has been in constant operation on 
this site. 

Between 1770 and 1774, Valentine Crawford (who had settled on Jacob's 
Creek) succeeded his brother, Captain William Crawford, as Washington's 
financial agent in this region, Simpson being merely the manager of his farm- 
ing and other operations on his lands in the present township of Perry. Below 
are given some extracts from letters written in the year last named by Valentine 
Crawford to Colonel Washington, having reference to the improvements then 
being made under the direction of Simpson on the Washington tract, viz.: 

152 



"Jacob's Creek, April 27, 1774. 

"I went to Gilbert Simpson's as soon as I got out, and gave 
him the bill of scantling you gave me, and the bill of his articles. 
I offered him all the servants that he might take them to your Bot- 
tom until we got our crews at work; but he refused for fear they 
would run away from him. ..." 

"Jacob's Creek, May 6, 1774. 

"As to the goods, I have stored them; and I went to Mr. Simp- 
son as soon as I came up, and offered him some of the carpenters 
and all the servants; but he refused taking them — the latter for fear 
they would run away; he has, however, now agreed to take some 
of both, the carpenters to do the framing for the mill, and the 
servants to dig the race. Stephens has agreed to quit, provided the 
Indians make peace, and it would be out of his power to get them 
back again, as he has no means of conveyance. 

"I am afraid I shall be obliged to build a fort until this erup- 
tion is over, which I am in hopes will not last long. I trust you 
will write me full instructions as to what I must do. Mr. Simpson 
yesterday seemed very much scared, but I cheered him up all I 
could. He and his laborers seemed to conclude to build a fort if 
times grew any worse." 

"Gist's, May 13, 1774. 

"Dear Sir: — I write to let you know that all your servants are 
well, and that none of them have run away. Mr. Simpson has as 
many of the carpenters as he can find v/ork for, and has got some 
of the servants assisting about the seat for the mill until this storm 
of the Indians blow over." 

"Jacob's Creek, May 25. 1774. 

"From all accounts Captain Connolly caught from the Indian 
towns they are determined for war. ... I have, with the as- 
sistance of some of your carpenters and servants built a very strong 
block-house; and the neighbors, what few of them have not run 
away, have joined with me, and we are building a stockade fort at 
my house. Mr. Simpson, also, and his neighbors have begun to 
build a fort at your Bottom, and we live in hopes we can stand 
our ground till we can get some assistance from below." 
A letter from Crawford dated June 8th, informed Washington that Simp- 
son had completed the fort at the Bottoms: 

"Jacob's Creek, July 27, 1774. 

"My wagon and team have been at work at your mill for some 
time hauling timber, store and lime and sand for it. I went over 
to assist in hauling some of the largest of the timber, but the late 
alarming accounts of the Indians have stopped the workmen, and 
I have brought home my team. I consider it a pity that the mill 

153 



was ever begun at these times. It appears to me sometimes that 
it will be a very expensive job to you before it is done. All the 
carpenters I brought out for you stopped work on the sixth of 
May, except some who were at work on your mill. These I pay 
myself. I shall observe your orders in regard to settling with car- 
penters." 
But it seems that the work on construction of the mill was delayed for 
some cause (doubtless the opening of the war of the Revolution), so that two 
years had elapsed from the time of its commencement before it was completed 
and put in operation, as is shown by a letter dated September 20, 1776, written 
by Valentine Crawford to General Washington when the latter was engaged in 
the operations of his army around the city of New York after the battle of 
Long Island. The following extract from that letter has reference to the build- 
ing of the mill, and tells the time when it was first started, viz.: 

"I this spring, before I came over the mountain, called at Simp- 
son's to see your mill go for the first time of its running, and can 
assure you I think it the best mill I ever saw anywhere, although 
I think one of a less value would have done as well. If you remem- 
ber, you saw some rocks at the mill-seat. These are as fine mill- 
stone grit as any in America. The millwright told me the stones 
he got for your mill there are equal to English burr." 
From this time until 1785 little is known as to what was done with Wash- 
ington's mill or on his lands in this vicinity. On the 23d of September in that 
year he wrote to Thomas Freeman (who had succeeded Valentine Crawford 
as his agent) as follows: 

"If you should not have offers in a short time for the hire of 
my mill alone, or for the mill with one hundred and fifty acres of 
land adjoining, I think it advisable, in that case, to let it on shares, 
to build a good and substantial dam of stone where the old one 
stood, and to erect a proper fore-bay in place of the trunk which 
now conducts the water to the wheel, and in a word, to put the 
house in proper repair. If you should be driven to this for want 
of a tenant, let public notice thereof be given and the work let to 
the lowest bidder, the undertaker finding himself and giving bond 
and security for the performance of his contract. The charges of 
these things must be paid out of the first moneys you receive for 
rent or otherwise. If I could get fifteen hundred pounds for the 
mill and one hundred acres of land most convenient thereto, I 
would let it go for that money. 

"G. WASHINGTON." 

General Washington, however, did not succeed in selling or otherwise 
disposing of his lands until the fall of 1789, when they were leased for a term 
of five years to Colonel Israel Shreve, who afterwards became their purchaser. 

The town of Perryopolis was laid out in 1814, although some houses had 

154 



1 



been built here as early as 1806 or 1807. This century-old town was laid out 
on the general plan of Washington, D. C, and would no doubt have been 
named Washington, had not the hero of "Perry's victory on Lake Erie" swept 
the country with his well-earned popularity just about this time, giving the 
founders of the new town an opportunity to do honor to one of the nation's 
latest and most brilliant heroes. It is not our province to attempt a history 
of the "capitol of Washington Bottoms." We venture the opinion, however, 
that with all his keen judgment in selecting the finest quality "rich, level lands" 
the farmer Father of his Country never dreamt that he had beneath his rich 
soil a far richer deposit of coal, the working of which in these later years has 
transformed the Bottoms and the peaceful old town of "Perr5moplace," as it 
used to be called because of its quietness, into a veritable beehive of industry. 

An incident in the town history is worthy of passing mention because of 
its connection with things of national interest: 

In the year 1858, when stone blocks were being contributed from all the 
States in the Union for the erection of the Washington Monument at Wash- 
ington, D. C, a block for that purpose was quarried by Mr. Pierson Cope, 
owner of a part of the Washington Bottoms, from which it was taken. Its 
removal from the quarry to the "Diamond" in Perryopolis was made the oc- 
casion of a great celebration on the Fourth of July of that year. A large pro- 
cession of people, led by a martial band and headed by a number of distin- 
guished orators and other dignitaries, escorted the block from the quarry to 
the "Diamond." The stone, which measured five feet in length and eighteen 
inches square, was loaded on a wagon drawn by four finely decorated horses, 
while sitting on the block and dressed in "regimentals" was an old negro called 
"Funty Munty," or Simon Washington, who had been a slave owned by General 
Washington. This old man, with a hammer in his hand, occasionally struck 
the stone so that it might be truthfully said not only that the block was taken 
from land once owmed by Washington, but that it was worked by one of his 
former slaves. 

As we go on down the Youghiogheny from Washington Run we come in 
a few miles to Jacob's Creek, the largest tributary stream in the region, and 
the boundary line for quite a distance between Fayette and Westmoreland 
Counties. Here again we have associations of local historic interest. It was 
here, near the mouth of Jacob's Creek, in Fayette County, in the year 1789 
that some Philadelphia merchants (Turnbull, Marmie & Co.) built the first iron 
furnace west of the Allegheny Mountains. This furnace was known by sev- 
eral different names from time to time throughout its active career, which was 
terminated finally in 1802. It was called the "Jacob's Creek Furnace." "Alli- 
ance Furnace," "Alliance Iron-Works," "TurnbuU's Iron-Works" and "Colonel 
Holker's Iron-Works." 

While this was no doubt the place and date of beginning of the iron in- 
dustries, which have grown to such wonderful proportions in the Pittsburgh 

155 



regions, it seems equally certain that iron had been discovered in this region at 
least ten years before the building of the furnace. Charcoal was the fuel used 
in the furnace, and until recent years the walls of the old charcoal house and 
the ruins of the furnace itself still remained to mark the birthplace of this great 
industry. The cut herewith shows all that is left of the time-wrecked furnace 
stack which was originally about 25 feet square. Not much of the history of 
this pioneer iron works can now be obtained. 




..^j 









>^^^ jcv^r^ .T^k'" ■ 1*^ ■*■. v_l;r '-*"°-» 




RUINS OF JACOB'S CREKK FURNACE. 
First Iron Works West of Alleghenies. 

156 



It evidently did not have a long life, although it was probably a very active 
place for some years. It is said on good authority that shot and shell for 
General "Mad Anthony" Wayne's campaign against the Indians in 1792-93 
was made at this old works here on Jacob's Creek. 



So much in brief for the old Youghiogheny. At various times some efforts 
and money have been spent toward rendering this stream navigable. We hear 
of this first in 1816. Again in 1821, $5000 was spent for this purpose. In 1841 
another effort was made. In 1843 the Youghiogheny Navigation Company was 
formed, and built dams and locks as far as West Newton. These were chiefly 
noted as aggravating annoyances to the old flat-boatmen, and only lasted 14 
years. Just now (1908) quite a spirited effort is again being made to have the 
Government aid in deepening the channel, and making a navigable waterway 
out cf this famous old river. 

Connellsville is taking the lead in this movement, and is joined by Scott- 
dale, Dawson, West Newton and other towns along the valley. Hon. A. F. 
Cooper, member of Congress from this district, is a warm supporter of this 
latest effort for a navigable Yough. 



I 




157 




Ipart III 



©lb Zimc Sketches 






INTRODUCTORY, PART III. 



Having traced more or less briefly the Youghiogheny River in its course 
through Fayette County, with especial reference to persons, places and events 
of local or general historic interest, we shall now present some chapters per- 
taining to the every-day life in this region a few generations ago. 

The following sketches, somewhat irregularly and perhaps irrelevantly 
grouped together, have for their purpose more the presenting of varied and in- 
teresting glimpses into the manners and customs of daily life in the times of 
our grandparents and great-grandparents, than they have the recording of any- 
thing like a systematic history of the times and people. 

That which is usually dignified with the name history, gives to its readers 
but little of the details of real life. These, and a knowledge of the environment 
out of which, and by virtue of which, the strong character, and the general phy- 
sical and moral worth of our ancestors was developed, are not learned, as a 
rule, from books or recorded histories. They must be obtained from the people 
themselves; from those whose long lives carry them back to the days of which 
we would learn. And as such persons are passing all too quickly from our 
midst, as the "good old times" with all their peculiar customs and institutions, 
their hard work, privations, joys and sorrows are swiftly receding from us, and 
rapidly becoming more and more dim and legendary, we have thought we could 
do no better service to the present and future generations than to lend our 
little help toward the recording and preserving of their history. 

The writer has long had in contemplation a much more extensive effort in 
this direction, for he has believed that the time will come, if it is not already 
approaching, when the faithful portrayal of the lives of the forefathers would 
be to the children, and to the children's children, more fascinating than fiction, 
more picturesque than poetry, and far more valuable than either. Whether the 
duties of an exacting profession will ever permit the riding of this little hobby 
to its intended destination or not, we may at least hope to have already gone 
far enough to indicate the direction in which some other and more capable 
equestrian may travel with credit to himself and with pleasure and profit to 
generations yet unborn. 



160 






THE BACK-WOODS AND THE LOG CABIN ERA. 

It is difficult for many of us who have come on the scene in recent years 
to reaUze that all this Yough region and the country around about it far and 
near was once completely covered with forest; that what our versatile President 
in his "Winning of the West" has said of the "back-woods" in general, was 
especially true of this land of our forefathers when they came as pioneer set- 
tlers into this beautiful Yough Valley. 

"All the land was shrouded in one vast forest. It covered the mountains 
from crest to river bed and filled the plains that stretch in sombre and mel- 
ancholy wastes toward the Mississippi. All that it contained, all that lay hid 
within it and beyond it none could tell. Men only knew that their boldest 
hunters, however deeply they had penetrated, had not yet gone over it; that 
it was the home of the game they followed, end the wild beasts that preyed on 
their flocks. 

"Back-woods society was simple, and the duties and rights of each mem- 
ber of the family were plain and clear. The man was the armed protector, the 
provider — the bread-winner. The woman was the housewife and child-bearer. 
They married young and their families were large, for they were strong and 
healthy, and their success in life depended on their stout arms and willing 
hearts. There was everywhere great equality of conditions. Land was plenty 
and all else was scarce, so courage, thrift and industry were sure of their re- 
ward. There was very little money. Barter was the common form of ex- 
change, and peltries were often used as a circulation medium. A young man 
inherited nothing from his father but his strong frame and eager heart, but 
before him lay the whole Continent wherein to pitch his farm, and he felt 
ready to marry as soon as he became of age, even though he had nothing but 
his clothes, his horse, his axe and his rifle. If the girl was well off and had 
been careful and industrious she might herself bring a dowry of a cow and a 
calf, a brood mare, a bed well stocked with blankets and a chest containing her 
clothes — the latter not very elaborate and chiefly of homespun. Fine clothes 
were rare, a suit of such costing more than two hundred acres of land." 

But if these early settlers had little in the way of "goods and chattels," 
they were certainly rich in courage, fortitude and strength of character. They 
lived the "simple life" so far as their social and intellectual wants were con- 
cerned, but a life that was indeed "strenuous" enough in most other respects. 

"The life of the backwoodsman was one long struggle. The forest had 
to be felled; droughts, deep snows, freshets, cloudbursts, forest fires and all 
other dangers of a wilderness life had to be faced." 

It was no easy task to clear the land and prepare the soil for agricultural 
purposes. As a rule, the best soil was covered with the greatest trees, and the 
labor required for their removal was not inviting to those who came almost 
single handed to the task. 

161 



The white oak, the burr oak, black oak, black walnut, sycamore, poplar 
and other varieties had for centuries been adding size and strength to their 
immense proportions. 

These giants and the smaller timber and undergrowth required great en- 
ergy, perseverence and protracted labor to clear the ground ready for crops. 
The usual plan fo their removal was by "girdling," or cutting a circle around 
the trunk of each tree sufficiently deep to kill it, and then to burn by piece- 
meal as the branches and trunks came down by reason of time and decay. 
Consequently the patch of sunshine around his primitive home, as a rule, did 
not enlarge very rapidly. 

The time and labor expended upon clearing the ground and raising grain 
often met with little or no reward. The products could not be sold nor ex- 
changed for the necessaries of life, consequently the forest remained undis- 
turbed for many years and agriculture was neglected, excepting for the neces- 
sary support of the family. 

The early settler, however, was not all the time free from discouragements. 
His domestic animals frequently becam.e lost or destroyed by ravenous beasts 
and the diseases of the country occasionally were protracted; but he came to 
stay, and this, for better or for worse, was his home, and he submitted phil- 
osophically to circumstances and events he could not control. 

The wife and mother endured with patience and heroism all privations and 
afflictions equal with the husband and father, and performed the arduous house- 
bold duties, and like the model women of old, "sought wool and flax and worked 
willingly with her hands." The whirring spinning wheel and threading loom 
were heard in almost every household. 

The welfare of the family depended upon the success of home industries, 
and consequently the wife had much less leisure than the husband. She super- 
intended the manufacture of all the fabrics for the house, for the clothing of 
the family, and cut and made up the same without protective tariff, rebate or 
combine, and it is singular that so little has been recorded of the good women 
who unlocked the resources of the new territory and gave their aid in founding 
a civilization that has surpassed all precedence in the history of nations. 

The first lesson the new settlers had to learn was the necessity of self-help 
and the next and almost equally important lesson was the necessity of helping 
each other. Much of the labor necessary to open up a new country of this 
character could only be performed by the combined efforts of all the settlers. 
Wood choppings, log rollings, building cabins, opening roads and such like 
occasions always brought out the full force of the neighborhood. 

Additions to the community were always welcome and when a new arrival 
appeared in the settlement and announced his desire to remain, all the neigh- 
bors would cheerfully turn out with teams, axes, shovels, augers, etc., and at a 
designated spot in the forest go to work to help the new arrival make a clearing 
and build a home. 

162 



Perhaps the latest acquisition would be a newly married couple eager to 
establish a home wherein they could work and grow up with the country. 

It may be interesting to our younger readers at least to follow the descrip- 
tion of the settling of such a young couple in the wilderness and to thus get a 
glimpse of the log-cabin age of the land of our forefathers. 

First a "location" had to be selected; this was often on a piece of land 
belonging to the parents of one or the other of the young couple, and was al- 
ways placed as near as possible to some spring. We find yet throughout the 
country the oldest houses or the ruins of former houses invariably near a 
spring, regardless of whatever other inconveniences such a location might en- 
tail. 

Having secured a location, the next thing was to cut down enough trees to 
let in the sunlight and "clear" a tract large enough for the cabin and a small 
garden. 

Then came the first "gang" of the cabin builders, which consisted of the 
"choppers," whose business it was to select and fell the trees and cut them into 
logs of the proper length and diameter for the walls of the cabin. Next came 
the haulers with a team to drag in these logs and arrange them properly as- 
sorted at the sides and ends of the building; also a carpenter, if such he might 
be called, whose business it was to search the woods for a proper tree for mak- 
ing clap-boards for the roof. A tree for this purpose had to be straight-grained 
and from two to three feet in diameter. It was cut into "lengths" four feet 
long, and these in turn were split into halves and quarters and made into 
"bolts," from which the boards were "rived," or split, with a large frow and 
mall. These boards were used without planing or shaving. Another party of 
men was employed in getting "puncheons" ready for the floor of the cabin. 
This was done by splitting logs about 18 or 20 inches in diameter, and hewing 
the faces of them down smooth with a broad-axe and making the edges straight 
so they could be joined up for an even floor. 

Sometimes, under favorable circumstances, the luxury of a wooden floo-r 
was not indulged in, the hard, dry earth being considered all sufficient. So far 
as possible, the materials for the cabin were thus prepared on the first day, 
and sometimes the foundations, cr bottom logs, which were usually larger than 
the others, were laid that same evening. 

The second day was allotted to the "raising." In the morning of the sec- 
ond day the neighbors all gathered in for this purpose. The first thing to be 
done was the selection of four "corner men," whose business it was to chop 
the notches and guide the placing of the logs as the rest of the company lifted 
them up. In the meantime the boards and "puncheons" were collected in, 
from the surrounding woods ready for the roof and floor, so that by the time 
livj! I the cabin was a few rounds high the sleepers and floor began to be laid. When 
the walls had reached the square, two end logs were allowed to project a foot 
or 18 inches beyond the wall to receive the "butting poles," as they were called, 
against which the ends of the first row of clap-boards were supported. The 

1&3 



roof was formed by making the end logs above the square shorter and shorter 
while the side logs continued the same length, but smaller in diameter until a 
single log formed the comb of the roof. On these roof logs, or "rafters," the 
clap-boards were placed in tiers, overlapping each other in the usual way to 
turn rain. (See cabin, page 114.) 

Nails, of course, were unknown to such a building, and these clap-boards 
were secured in position by a sufficient number of heavy "weight poles," or 
split timbers, reaching the length of the roof at right angles to the boards, and 
kept from rolling off by intervening blocks of wood called "knees," the lower 
end of which were placed against the "butting poles" at the eaves and the other 
ends acting as a stop to the pole next above, and so on to the comb of the 
roof. (See picture, page 114.) The roof and sometimes the floor were finished 
on the day of the raising, as were also the openings for the door and the chim- 
ney. The former was made by sawing or cutting the logs through on one side 
of the building so as to make a space about three feet wide. This opening was 
secured by upright pieces of timber three or four inches thick, through which 
holes were bored into the ends of the logs for the purpose of pinning them fast. 
A similar but wider opening was cut through at the base and split sticks laid in 
clay at the top as is well shown in the picture on page 176. This base of the chim- 
ney was made large to admit of a stone back wall and jams for the fireplace. 
At a later date when the log cabin had evolved into the log-house, this chimney, 
still on the outside, was built entirely of stone as shown on page 170. 

A third day was commonly spent by a few so-called carpenters in leveling 
off the floor, making a clap-board door, perhaps one or two small openings for 
windows and some necessary furniture. A table was made by supporting a 
large split slab on four round legs set in auger holes. Some three-legged stools 
were made in the same manner. 

The door was constructed of heavy split boards fastened to the battens or 
cross-pieces by wooden pins. The battens and hinges, which were also made 
of wood, were placed on the inside, and also the latch, to which a strong string 
was attached and passed through a small hole a short distance above so as to 
hang on the outside of the door. By pulling the string the latch was raised 
and the door opened by persons without. 

At night the string was pulled in, leaving the heavy wooden latch down 
as a very secure and convenient fastening. This primitive latch and lock com- 
bination gave rise to that familiar expression of hospitality and welcome: "You 
will always find our latch-string out." 

The bedstead was a crude and curious piece of furniture, made by placing 
3 single fork with its lower end in a hole in the floor and its upper end fas- 
tened to a joist. Two poles were then supported by this fork, one running the 
length of the bed and fastening in a crack between the logs; the shorter one at 
right angles with the first, with its outer end in another crack. By means of 
these poles and the cracks in the wall, the boards forming the bottom of the 
bed, were supported. Some pins stuck in the logs at the back of the house 

lb4 



with clap-boards on them, served for shelves for the table-ware. A few more 
pegs around the walls for a display of the home made clothing, hunting shirts, 
etc., and two small forks, or buck-horns, to a joist for the rifle and shot- 
pouch, and the carpenter work was complete. 

In the meantime masons were at work. With the heart pieces of the 
"bolts" from which the clap-boards were made, they made billets for "chinking" 
up the cracks between the logs of the cabin and the chimney. These were 
"daubed" or plastered in with clay mortar. 

The cabin being finished, the ceremony of a "house-warming" took place 
before the young couple were permitted to move into it. This consisted of an 
all-night's dance by the relatives of the bride and groom and their neighbors. 
On the following day the young couple took possession of their new "man- 
sion," which we can well imagine must have made a very humble appearance 
in the midst of the natural grandeur of its surroundings. Even the addition 
of their "worldly goods" added but little to the show of comfort in this new 
home. The furniture pieces, the cooking utensils were equally limited and sim- 
ple and corresponded well with the furniture, generally consisting of a kettle 
"skillet," stew-pan, a few pewter dishes and some gourds. Sometimes this 
stock of kitchen and table ware was enlarged by the addition of home-made 
wooden plates, spoons, ladles, bowls and trenchers The iron pots and knives 
and forks, of course, were brought from over the mountains along with other 
pack-horse supplies. This table-ware corresponded very well with the articles 
of diet with which they were used "Hog and hominy" was proverbial for the 
dish, of which they were the component parts. "Johnny cake" and pone were, 
in the earlier days, the only forms of bread in use for breakfast and dinner. 
For supper "mush and milk" was the standard dish, and, indeed, continued to 
be in many homes long after the days of the pioneers. When milk was not 
plentiful, which was often the case, owing to the scarcity of cattle, or the want 
of proper pasture for them, the substantial dish of hominy had to take its place, 
and the mush was frequently eaten with sweetened water, molasses or the 
gravy of fried meat. 

"We did not then, as now, require contributions from the four quarters of 
the globe to furnish the breakfast table, and yet our homely fare and unsightly 
cabins and furniture produced a hardy veteran race who planted the first foot- 
steps of society and civilization in these immense regions west of the mountains. 
Inured to hardships, bravery and labor from their early youth, they sustained 
with manly fortitude the fatigue of the chase, the campaign and scout, and with 
strong arms 'turned the wilderness into fruitful fields' and have left to us their 
descendants, the rich inheritance of an immense empire blessed with peace and 
wealth." 

Thus lived these hardy first settlers, and thus was built the famous log 
cabin of the pioneer. 

It was a landmark peculiar to its own day and age, and has disappeared as 

65 



completely from the habitations of men as have the boundless forests with 
which it was once surrounded. Few of the present generation ever even saw a 
genuine old-fashioned log cabin. The log house that took its place at a later 
date is now an object of considerable interest, but it can never have the same 
classic sentiments clustering around it that cling to the old log cabin. 

This primitive abode of our forefathers will always have a conspicuous 
place in American history and literature. Orators have eulogized it and poets 
have sung its praises. 

It has been the birthplace of many of our country's greatest men and 
women — Presidents of the United States were born in log cabins; great war- 
riors, statesmen, philosophers and scholars were none the less renowned be- 
cause they "first saw the light of day within these walls of logs and clay." Our 
Grants and Lincolns and Garnelds have looked with pride to these humble 
places of their birth. Daniel Webster when defending William Henry Harri- 
son from the taunt that he was the "log-cabin, hard-cider candidate," said: 
"Taunt and scoffing at the humble condition of early life affect nobody in this 
country but those who are foolish enough to indulge in them. A man who is 
not ashamed of himse'f need not be ashamed of his early condition. It did 
not happen to me to be born in a log-cabin, but my elder brothers and sisters 
were and the remains of that cabin still exist. I make to it an annual visit; 
I carry my children to it to teach them the hardships endured by the generations 
that have gone before them! And if I ever am ashamed of it or if I ever fail 
in affectionate veneration for him who reared it and defended it against savage 
violence and destruction, cherished all the domestic virtues beneath its roof, 
and through the fire and blood of a seven years revolutionary war, shrunk from 
no danger, no toil, no sacrifice to serve his country and to raise his children 
to a condition better than his own, may my name and the name of my pos- 
terity be blotted forever from the memory of mankind." 

Some years ago the writer was called upon to deliver a lecture to young 
people on "Barefoot Boys," in the course of which he made the following ref- 
erence to the log cabin: "The White House at Washington is a palace of 
grandeur well worth our while to see, but back yonder at the beginning of the 
career of almost every President that ever graced it, is an obscure country 
farm house, in many instances a little old log cabin. What a contrast, and 
what an inspiration in the two pictures thus presented! First the barefoot boy 
in a log cabin, and then the grown-up man in the nation's highest seat of honor! 
If I were an artist and wished to paint a picture that should ever remain one of 
hope-inspiring interest to the boys of this great land, I think I should paint the 
log cabin birthplace of one of our country's famous men. 

"They are to be found here and there throughout the land — little and old 
and time-worn now, many of them scarcely more than shapeless heaps of logs 
and stone, but all of them interesting and instructive, because of the lessons 
they teach, of the trials and hardships and struggles by which real greatness is 
made. Poverty and hard work built them, but out of them came a wealth of 

16f) 



character, pluck and power never known in the palaces of the rich, and the de- 
parting years have bequeathed to this twentieth century no grander monuments 
than the log-cabin homes of America's famous men and women." 

Some one has drawn this picture so beautifully in verse and has so well 
described these "old log-cabins" and their surroundings and the character of 
the people who built them that we might easily conclude the following little 
poem had been "made to order" for this very place and chapter. 

If you have any sentiment about you, or any veneration for the precious 
memories of the "good old days of long ago," you must find in these lines on 
"The Old Log Cabins" a responsive chord that cannot fail to add to the "sweet 
music of your soul:" 

"They stand in the meadows a!l lone and forlorn, 
The log-cabin homes where our fathers were born: 
The thistle and goldenrod grow 'round the door, 
And cover the hearthstone so cheerful of yore. 

The chimneys have fallen, the roofs sunken in, 
The squirrels dart through with their chatter and din; 
Unheeded the winter winds whistle about, 
And the snowflakes drift in where the children looked out- 
How thick grew the forest afar and anear 
When these log walls were raised by the brave pioneer, 
And a journey to mill was net made in a day. 
And a trail through the woods was the only highway! 

Here he brought, all undaunted, his pretty girl-wife 

With a dowry of courage to start them in life; 

Here the children were born, oft a dozen or more, 

And she rocked them to sleep on the rough puncheon floor. 

The loom rested here and the wheel was near by, 
And beside it the tub with the butternut dye; 
The settle was there by the warm chimney side. 
And the trundlebed pushed 'neath the fcur-poster wide. 

Ah, well, thus they lived, and they lived long and well; 
And happiness deigned at their hearthstones to dwell, 
And their sons and their daughters have risen to stand 
In the halls of the mighty all over the land. 

Are you lor.ely, old cabins, so dark and so drear, 
Left alone to the tempests for many a year? 
Or are you content, 'mid the suns and the snows. 
To dream away time in a well-earned repose?" 

167 



Probably the most realistic picture of a pioneer log-cabin ever put to verse, 
however, is to be found in the following extracts from James Whitcomb Riley's 
poem on the "Old Settlers": 

"O'er the vision like a mirage falls 
The old log-cabin with its dingy walls, 
And crippled chimney, with the crutch-like prop 
Beneath a sagging shoulder at the top. 
The coonskin battened fast on either side — 
The wisps of leaf tobacco 'cut and dried,' 
The yellow strands of quartered apples, strung 
In rich festoons that tangle in among 
The morning-glory vines that clamber o'er 
The little clap-board roof above the door; 
The old well sweep that drops a courtesy 
To every thirsty soul so graciously, 
The stranger as he drains the dripping gourd, 
Instinctively murmurs, 'Thank the Lord!' 
Again thro' mists of memory arise 
The simple scenes of home before the eyes; 
The happy mother humming with her wheel, 
The dear old melodies that used to steal 
So drowsily upon the summer air. 
The house-dog hid his bone, forgot his care, 
And nestled at her feet, to dream perchance, 
Some cooling dream of winter time romance. 
The square of sunshine through the open door, 
That notched its edge across the puncheon floor, 

And made a golden coverlet, whereon 

The god of slum.ber had a picture drawn 

Of babyhood in all the loveliness 

Of dimpled cheek, and limb, and linsey dress. 

The bough-filled fireplace and the mantel wide. 

Where, perched upon its shoulders 'neath the joists. 

The old clock hiccoughed, harsh and husky-voiced, 

And snarled the premonition, dire and dread, 

When it should hammer Time upon the head; 

Tomatoes, red and yellow, in a row 

Preserved not then for diet, but for show. 

Like rare and precious jewels in the rough, 

Whose worth was not appraised at half enough. 

The jars of jelly; with their dusty tops; 

The bunch of pennyroyal and the cordial drops; 

The flask of camphor and the vial of squills; 

168 



The box of buttons, garden seeds and pills, 
And ending all the mantel's bric-a-brac, 
The old-time honored 'family almanack.' " 

Then he describes a child's excursion to the log-cabin "loft" (they did not 
have garrets in those days), the odd things found there, and then his going 
tired to — 

"the bed 
Where first our simple childish prayers were said, 
And while without the merry cricket thrills 
A challenge to the solemn whip-poor-wills, 
And filing on the chorus with his glee, 
The katydid whets all the harmony 
To feather-edge of incoherent song. 
We drop asleep, and peacefully along 
The current of our dreams we glide away 
To that dim harbor of another day. 
Where brown toil waits us, and where labor stands 
To welcome us with rough and horny hands." 

The poem closes with a defense of — 

"the rude unpolished ways. 
That swayed us in the good, old-fashioned days, 
When labor wore the badge of manhood set 
Upon his tawny brow in pearl of sweat." 

And with a eulogy of labor — 

"'twas God's intent 
Each man should be a king — a President; 
And while thro' human veins the blood of pride 

Shall ebb and flow in labor's rolling tide, 
The brow of toil shall wear the diadem 
And justice gleaming there, the central gem 
Shall radiate the time when we shall see 
Each man rewarded as his work shall be." 
* * * * * ^.■■ 

The log cabin of the pioneer period, as we have noted, was succeeded by 
the log house. Many have used these terms synonymously, and have not really 
known the difference between the two. There is, however, quite a difference. 
We have already given a full description of the log cabin. The log house was 
simply a step farther toward the modern luxurious dwelling. It was built of 
hewed logs instead of round logs, was usually a story and a half or two stories 
high; had at least two rooms, and often more. The chimney, while still on the 
outside of the end of the building, was built entirely of stone and mortar. The 

169 







vU. 




j2 




i 




^-'i Jli 








'k. *« ^^-^ ' - -f JimmMm. jb.ai —IIP ■-:^r :^^ ■ /iat - 



TYPICAL 

OLD-TIME 

LOO HOUSE AND 

LOG STABLE 



Author's Birthplace) 



Breaking Elax 




floors were made of sawed boards, the windows had glass instead of greased 
paper, and the roof was made of oak shingles nailed on instead of clapboards 
held by weight poles. 

These houses, many of them, were fixed up quite neat and substantial look- 
ing and were warm and comfortable, although, as a rule, too small for the size 
of the families that occupied them. A well-built log house was a very durable 
structure. Many of them are to be found throughout the country yet, and in 
good condition, after anywhere from fifty to a hundred years of continuous 
service. Some in more recent times have been made modern in appearance by 
weatherboarding them on the outside of the logs, and giving this outer gar- 
ment a coat of paint. At about the time the log house came into general use 
or in most communities perhaps at a little later period, the stone house began 
to make its appearance. 

This, as a rule, was a much more pretentious and commodious structure 
than either of its predecessors. As in the log buildings, the material for erect- 
ing stone houses was plenty and cheap, and many of the older stone dwellings 
were built of rough, irregular stone with but little dressing. Some of even the 
oldest ones, however, are constructed of neatly dressed stones and show first- 
class workmanship. 

They often rival in appearance the brick buildings that came at a later 
date and the still more modern frame structure. It is remarkable how well 
many of these old stone houses stand the wear of time. The famous Chew 
House that figured so prominently in the battle of Germantown in 1777, though 
built of the soft, scaley rock peculiar to that region, stands to-day apparently 
as strong and substantial as if it had been built a hundred years after the War 
of the Revolution instead of many years before. 

Some of the stone houses yet standing in this Yough region are almost 
as old as the history of the region. One or two of those shown elsewhere in 
this book are among the time-honored landmarks of their respective neighbor- 
hoods. A few years ago the writer was asked to help celebrate the one hun- 
dredth anniversary of the erection of one of these old stone structures, and 
did so by contributing to the program of the day the following little poem 
which represents the old house itself as speaking on that occasion. A large 
stone set high in the old wall of this house has chiseled on its face in crude 
characters "June 2, 1796": 

"Pray tell me why, this bright June day. 
These people all have gathered round 
As if some tribute they would pay 
Unto a hero, newly found! 

Have I not stood here, long before. 

The same as now I stand to-day? 
Then why this throng about my door. 

And all these songs and voices gay? 

171 



To answer me, I see you turn 

And point to yonder graven stone. 

That from its legend I may learn. 
The reason why my fame has grown. 

And why it is I now become 
The centre of so gay a crowd, 

And hear around me fife and drum, 
And men whose voices praise me loud. 

One hundred years ago to-day! 

Have I so long been standing here? 
Yet this is what those figures say, 

However strange it may appear. 

And is it all because I've stood 
A hundred years upon this spot, 

And sheltered man from wind and flood. 
That I, to-day, am not forgot? 

You say I'm old, but no, I'm not, 
A hundred years cannot be long. 

To one whose mortal frame is wrought. 
Of beams of oak, and stonework strong! 

No, I'm not old, nor shall I be. 
For yet another hundred years, 

The changes time can bring to me, 
Are not enough to wake my fears. 

'Tis only man, whose form is clay, 
Must grow so quickly old and die! 

I came upon this earth to stay, 

Then what to fear, from time, have I? 

You call me old! Perhaps 'tis true, 
If age be measured by the life, 

That time allots on earth to you 
So brief in years, so full of strife! 

But what is your short age to me? 

At best, your life is but a span, 
And many here may never see. 

The three-score years-and-ten, of man! 



I know you say that even now, 
Are many in this joyous throng. 

Whose silv'ry locks, and furrowed brow, 
Proclaim that human life is long. 

But human lives of flesh and bone. 
And throbbing hearts that ache vinth care, 

Are not the same, as walls of stone, 
On whom no furrows time can wear. 

I stand to-day as free from care 

And all that time and age can bring, 

As yonder bird that floats the air 
Upon its light and tireless wing. 

You point to me, and speak of age. 

And while you speak, you're growing old! 

You read my long drawn history's page, 
But soon will be your history told. 

I've seen how long the life can be. 
Of mortal man upon this earth! 

From one who died at ninety-three. 
To babe, that scarce survived its birth. 

And were it not, that after all 

There is another life for you. 
How sad indeed would be the call. 

That summons man from mortal view! 

But this is my Centennial Day, 
And not the time to sadly mope! 

Drive these dull thoughts of death away. 
And fill your hearts with brighter hope. 

Sing 'round me now, your gayest song! 

Make these old walls of mine rejoice. 
Beat loud your drums, and thus prolong. 

The sound that wakens at your voice. 

Hang out your Stars and Stripes to-day; 

Join young and old in Freedom's chorus. 
One hundred years have passed away, 

And Freedom's banner still floats o'er us." 

173 



THE EARLY SETTLERS AND HOW THEY LIVED. 

Many of the original settlers in this region based their titles to farms on 
what was called the "tomahawk rights." Having selected a desirable piece of 
land, thcy encircled it with a line marked by "blazing" trees with an axe; that 
is, chopping a certain number of marks on the bark of the trees so as to be 
able to follow from tree to tree around the land by these marks. There was 
no attention paid to angles, degrees or chains, the sole purpose being to des- 
ignate the boundaries of the tract, without reference to the number of acres. 
Lines thus indicated were held sacred by all parties, and later as the country 
settled up, were recognized by law. It was in this manner, largely, that the 
present irregularly and badly shaped farms originated. 

Groups of settlers would try to locate at short distances from each other 
so as to better enable them to render mutual assistance as well as to afford a 
means of protection in times of danger, for as we have mentioned elsewhere, 
the dangers from attacks of hostile savages were by no means all past when 
the first settlers came into this region. Many a community was obliged to 
maintain its fort, and at certain seasons to take refuge in the same until an 
outbreak was quieted. 

The natural beauty of the country and the manner of living in those early 
days exerted no small influence on the civilization and character of the mixed 
inhabitants of these regions. 

They all were, or soon became, genial, warm-hearted, neighborly and oblig- 
ing to an extent unknown in older communities and under more affluent cir- 
cumstances. 

They realized that the success of a settlement depended quite as much on 
the mutual aid of all its members as upon individual effort. Hence all kinds 
of work that a family could not well accomplish alone, such as wood-chopping, 
log-rolling, barn-raising, butchering, etc., among the men and quilting, spinning, 
carpet-making, etc., among the women, was willingly entered into by all the 
friends and neighbors. 

Such occasions in most instances served a double purpose — they accom- 
plished the work that was necessary to be done and they furnished the oppor- 
tunity for sociability and much fun and pleasure, especially for the young folks, 
who were prone to terminate all such gatherings with a frolic or dance. The 
writer has often heard his dear old grandmother, now well on in her tenth 
decade, speak with pleasure of this feature of her girlhood days: "Many a time 
I've taken my spinning wheel under my arm ,and walked two or three miles 
to a neighbor's, where a whole parcel of us girls would spend the afternoon 
spinning and then at night the boys would fjather in and we'd have a frolic, and 
wouldn't get home until way after midnight; but no difference how late it was 
we were always up and at work by daylight the next morning. Law me I' 

174 



dunno what the young folks would do nowadays if they had to work like we 
did." And many such remarks as this lead us to know that the girls of a hun- 
dred years ago were not unaccustomed to the hard work and privations of the 
times. The young men also knew what it was to labor long and hard, and 
they prided themselves on their bodily strength and were always eager to con- 
tend against one another in athletic games and sports, such as foot-racing, 
wrestling, jumping, lifting and throwing, and all kinds of tests of muscle and 
endurance. 

They were equally ambitious in vying with one another in their work. It 
was often a matter of great pride to be able to do more of some particular kind 
of work in a day than the average man could do. A day in those times was 
not limited by law, but by light; they would begin as early and would work as 
long as it was light enough to see what they were doing. 

Sometimes they matched up for honors single-handed, and sometimes they 
divided off in parties, each side bending all its energies to be first in husking a 
given number of shocks of corn, or in cutting with the sickles and binding up 
the greatest number of dozens of wheat in a day. 

While all were free and willing to help each other whenever help was 
needed, yet each family did everything that could be done for itself. 

Of course we refer now to the primitive days of the earlier settlers when 
the men worked with axe and hoe and sickle, and the women were equally busy 
with spinning wheel and loom and wool-card. Almost every house had its loom 
and almost every woman, and some of the men, were weavers. "Linsey," or 
"linsey-woolsey," made from flax and wool, the former the "chain" and the lat- 
ter the "filling," was the warmest and most substantial clothing to be had, and 
indeed for many years it was from these two sources alone that practically all 
the clothing came, hence the failure of the flax crop or destruction of the small 
flocks by wolves, dogs or whatever cause meant "hard times" in the way of 
clothing. 

Most families tanned their own leather also, out of which they made their 
shoes, or "shoe-packs," and such articles as they were obliged to make of 
leather. The tan vat was a familiar object in the days of the log-cabin. In its 
cruder form it was simply a large trough sunk to its upper edge in the ground. 

A quantity of "tan-bark" was easily obtained every spring in clearing and 
fencing the land. This, after drying, was brought in, and on wet days when 
out-door work could not be done, was "ground" by shaving it down and pound- 
ing it on a block until fit for use. Ashes were used in place of lime for taking 
off the hair. Bear's oil, hog's lard and tallow answered the place of fish-oil. 
To be sure, this leather was coarse, but it was serviceable and substantial. The 
blacking for the leather was made of lard and soot. Almost every family also 
had its own shoemaker to make up the leather goods for the family, the same 
that they had their own "tailors" and "milliners" and "dressmakers." 

For the preparation of food in these earlier times each cabin had some 

175 



form of crude home-made hand mill and a hominy block The latter was an 
idea borrowed from the Indians and was only a block of wood with a hole 
burned into the top as a mortar where another rounded piece of wood or a 
stone was worked as a pestle, very crude and simple, but effective enough as a 
means of cracking the corn into hominy. 

In the fall of the year, while the Indian corn was soft, this block and 
pestle did very well also for making meal for "Johnny cake" and mush, but 
was rather a slow method when the corn became dry and hard. To facilitate 
and lessen the work under these conditions the "sweep" was a device some- 
times used. This consisted of an elastic pole or sapling some thirty feet or 
more in length, the butt end of which was placed under the side of a house or 




"SWEEP" CORN MILL 



Etump so as to hold it fast, while it was supported at a point about one-third 
of the way from the butt by a fork or pair of forked props so as to elevate 
the small end about fifteen or eighteen feet from the ground. To this elevated 
end was attached by a mortice or other freely movable joint a piece of sappling 
five or six inches in diameter and eight or ten feet long. The lower end of 
this was rounded off so as to answer for a pestle. A wooden pin put through 
this pestle at the proper height made a handhold and enables two to work at 
it if necessary. A still more simple home-made "mill" used for making meal 
while the corn was too soft to be cracked and beaten was the "grater." This 

170 



was a half-spherical piece of tin perforated with a punch from the concave 
side, and nailed by its edges to a block of wood. The ears of corn were rubbed 
on the rough convex surface of this grater while the meal fell through on the 
board block to which it was nailed, which, being in a slanting position, dis- 
charged the meal into a vessel placed for its reception. Of course, this was a 
slow way of making meal, but necessity has no law. 

Another form of "hand-mill" very ancient in origin was better than the, 
"sweep-mill" or the "grater." It was made of two circular stones, the lower 
of which was called the "bed stone" and the upper one the "runner." These 
were placed one on top of the other in a hoop-like wooden ring with a spout 
for discharging the meal. A staff or turning handle was set in a hole in the 
upper surface of the "runner" near the outer edge, with its upper end through 
a hole in a board fastened to a joist above, so that two persons could be em- 
ployed turning the mill at the same time. 

This same type of mill is said to be still use in Palestine. To a mill of this 
sort our Saviour alluded when, with reference to the destruction of Jerusalem 
He said: "Two women shall be grinding at a mill, the one shall be taken and 
the other left." 

The general condition of this region, the state of society, the distance from 
market and lack of suitable means of transportation at the early period of which 
we write, was well calculated to call into action every native mechanical genius. 
Necessity was not only the mother of invention, but she was the foster parent 
of all the backwoods arts, sciences and professions. 

There developed in almost every large family or neighborhood some one 
whose natural ingenuity enabled him to do many things for his family or neigh- 
bors with a degree of proficiency and skill scarcely to be expected under such 
circumstances. 

Their plows made chiefly of wood, harrows with wooden teeth and sleds 
were in many instances well made. Many of the puncheon floors made as we 
have previously described were very neat, their joints close and the top even 
and smooth. Their looms were heavy, but were well made and answered the 
purpose very well. Certain members of the family or the community soon 
came to be known as the weavers, the shoemakers, the spinners, etc., and 
where each family did not possess those sufficiently skilled in these lines, the 
common artisan of the neighborhood was called upon and soon, in this way, 
"infant industries were born and nurtured." 

Those who could not exercise these mechanical arts were, of course, under 
the necessity of giving labor or barter to their neighbors who could in ex- 
change for the special service thus rendered. 

The early emigrants carried most of their goods over the mountains on 
horseback. The pack-horse was the first freight train from East to West, and, 
of course, only such articles as were absolute necessities were thus transported, 
but it is said to have been really wonderful what could be carried in this man- 
ner. Household and kitchen utensils of all kinds, and even good sized mills and 

177 



machines were taken apart and packed on horses. For years after their ar- 
rival in this "western region" the settlers were obliged to make frequent pil- 
grimages to the East to replenish their supplies of such necessities as could not 
j'et be obtained or manufactured here. Families often combined and sent one 
cr more of their number with a pack-horse train to procure these things for all. 
The primitive farming was done either with oxen or horses, according to 
the circumstances and ability of the settler. There was much hard work first 
in clearing the land, after which the ground was broken up by the home-made 
plow, consisting of a straight beam and handles with a wooden mould board; 
the share, or "point," and coulter alone being made of iron. The harrow was 
usually triangular in shape, such as we see in modern times, but the frame was 
of heavy hewn timber and the teeth were of wood until iron became plentier 
and cheaper. The gears at first were such as had been brought from the East, 




H.vrijxc i,()(;s with oxivN. 



but these after a while had to be repaired or replaced by home-made tow-ropes 
and rawhide leather, the bark of saplings, hickory withs and grape vines were 
also drafted into service at times to repair portions of the harness. 

Grain of all kinds, of course, was planted by hand or sown broadcast, and 
was reaped with the sickle. (Fig. 9, page 214) 

Our grandparents tell us it was a beautiful sight to see some six or eight 
men reaping their way across a field of wheat in the peculiar manner of the 
times. The best reaper was made the leader and the rest had to follow each in 
his place, until the end of the "through," which extended across the field or 
across and back again according to the distance. All hands then stopped long 
enough to get a drink of cold water from a nearby spring, and not infrequently 
a drink of whisky also from the green glass long-neck bottle, or the stone jug 
that was often thought to be a harvest field necessity in those days. Whisky 

178 



was home-made and plenty, and yet a drunken man in the harvest field was a 
rare occurrence, such conduct being looked upon as quite disgraceful. The 
women on many farms were as expert reapers as men. The scarcity of men 
laborers made it necessary to call the women into service in order to save the 
grain. A day's work in the harvest field was from daylight to dark, and it in- 
volved a tremendous amount of hard work, for but comparatively small returns, 
which fact indeed was true of most of the work in the "good old days." Labor- 
saving machinery in nearly all lines of agricultural pursuits and domestic man- 
ufactories had either not yet been invented, or, what was equally as bad for our 
"western" region, for this Yough Valley was then "out west," could not yet be 
profitably brought over the mountains from the East. 

We have mentioned above that whisky was home-made and plenty. This 
came about in a very natural way. It was not that our hardy pioneers were 
a set of drunkards, for we are everywhere told that there were fewer drunk- 
ards in proportion to the population in those days of pure free whisky than at 
any time since. The use of spirits as a beverage in the olden times was a pre- 
vailing custom that few stopped to question. We are told that within the life- 




THI-; OLD AXD THK NI'.W. 
179 



time of many now living it would have been considered a breach of etiquette 
not to set out the bottle when friends, and even ministers, called on a visit. 
"The green glass, long-necked bottle" was a kind of household god. It was 
present on nearly every occasion — at weddings, corn-huskings, log-rollings, Rax- 
pullings, sheep-washings, fish-swabbings, house and barn raisings and many 
other similar gatherings of the people. 

But the making of whisky grew out of the effort to convert the bulkier" 
products of the fields into a portable (and we might add "potable") article for 
market. 

The sale of grain of all kinds was very limited at home, and the farmers 
found they could not carry it over the mountains to the eastern market at a 
profit unless it was converted into whisky. "A horse," they said, "can carry 
only four bushels of rye, but a horse can carry twenty-four bushels of rye when 
turned into whisky." Whisky, therefore, became a staple production. At the 
time of the uprising against the attempt of the Government to impose a tax on 
all distilled spirits, known as the "Whisky Insurrection" in 1794, there were 
nearly three hundred "still houses" in Washington County alone, and in this 
portion of Fayette County in which we are interested, there is said to have 
been a "still house" on every fourth or fifth farm in some localities. Many 
men were distillers as well as farmers, converting their own grain and that of 
their neighbors into this "portable and salable article." The primitive still- 
house in keeping with the times was a simple, crude affair, and was always lo- 
cated below some good never-failing spring so as to have plenty of cold water, 
which was as essential in the making of liquor in those times as the "water 
wagon" is to the present-day efforts towards its destruction. We must not too 
severely criticize our well-meaning ancestors for engaging so extensively in 
the making of that which is looked upon to-day as wholly destructive to the 
welfare of a community. In the light and customs of the timis, the moral side 
of the question was scarcely thought of. It was purely a business affair and a 
matter of finding a way to realize something from the product of their labor, 
and when at the suggestion of Alexander Hamilton, then Secretary of the' 
Treasury, Congress passed a bill, March 3, 1791, imposing a tax of four pence 
a gallon on all distilled spirits, these Western Pennsylvania farmer-distillers bit- 
terly opposed it on the ground that it was not only an interference with their 
political rights and liberties, but a financial calamity, consuming, as they said, 
what little money the sale of whisky brings into the country! Great excite- 
ment prevailed from the time the law was enacted until, in 1794, it amounted 
to an insurrection. Washington County took the most active part, but Green, 
Westmoreland, Allegheny and Fayette were not inactive. Meetings were held, 
collectors were denounced, resisted and in some instances assailed, tarred and 
feathered, beaten, threatened, boycotted, or, as in the case of General Neville 
and Bnjamin Wells, their homes destroyed. 

Military organizations were formed. The U. S. mails were interfered with. 
The excitement grew so violent and the proceedings so turbulent that President 

180 



Washington issued a proclamation giving warning to the disaffected people. 
The next day he appointed commissioners to visit the region involved with a 
view to restoring order, but all this failing to secure the end desired, he called 
out troops to the number of fifteen thousand men under General Henry Lee, 
the "Light Horse Harry" of Revolutionary fame, and sent them to the scene 
of the insurrection. 

One wing of the army came westward by way of Bedford, Somerset and 
Mount Pleasant, the other wing by way of Cumberland and Uniontown, meet- 
ing on the Monongahela near Parkinson's Ferry, now Monongahela City. In a 
brief campaign the insurrection was crushed without battle or bloodshed. We 
have no record of rioting to any extent in the Yough region, except the attack 
on the house of Benjamin Wells, collector of revenue for Fayette and West- 
moreland Counties. His house stood on what is now Seventh Street, New 
Haven, and he had his office in it. Three times the house was attacked by 
night. On the last occasion, July, 1794, the rioting party set fire to the house 
and destroyed it with all its contents. 





181 



EARLY TRANSPORTATION AND TRAVEL. 

As we have noted elsewhere, the first trains for transportation running 
into this region at the western foot-hills of the Alleghenies, were the trains of 
pack-horses taken back and forth over the mountains. These were followed 
after a time when Indian trails and forest paths had grown gradually into wagon 
roads, by emigrant wagons and still later by the regular commerce carriers 
called "Conestoga wagons." 

Before the time of railroads between the East and West, the freight busi- 
ness of this western region was carried on almost wholly by means of these 
peculiar heavy covered road wagons drawn by six horses, and carrying large 
loard of merchandise and other supplies. 

For many years these were the exclusive carriers between Pittsburg and 
the eastern markets at Philadelphia and Baltimore. 




COXKSTOGA WAC.oX. 



After the completion of the Pennsylvania Canal in 1834 transportation was 
.somewhat modified and the canal boat divided honors with the wagon train. 

These old-time freight carriers known in the East as "Conestogas" and a 
little farther west as "Prairie Schooners" were large strongly built wagons, 
having a peculiar shape and cover of white canvas, best described by the picture 
accompanying this sketch. They were usually drawn by six horses, and in long 
routes as in the West, traveled in companies. A train of "prairie schooners" 
slowly moving across the plains with their burden of merchandise was once as 
familiar a sight as the railroad train of the present day, and yet we are told 

182 



that these peculiar wagons so characteristic of their age, had so long and so 
completely disappeared by 1893 that not one appeared on exhibition at the 
World's Fair at Chicago. There is still an occasional old Conestoga wagon 
such as the one shown in the cut to be found preserved for exhibition in East- 
ern Pennsylvania. Not long ago. one was shown in a parade on the streets of 
Philadelphia and was an object of quite a little curiosity. 

It is said that as early as 1817, 12,000 of these wagons in twelve months 
passed over the Alleghenies from Philadelphia and Baltimore, each with four 
to six horses and carrying from 35 to 40 hundredweight. The cost was about 
seven dollars per hundredweight; in some cases ten dollars. To transport one 
ton of freight between Philadelphia and Pittsburg, therefore, would cost in the 
neighborhood of one hundred and fifty dollars, and would consume from two 
to three weeks of time. 

Now, by the Pennsylvania Railroad, a ton can be carried between these 
same places in 72 hours at a cost of $3.00. In 1817 it cost $14.00 to carry a bar- 
rel of flour from Pittsburg to Philadelphia and now the charge is 31 cents. 

In 1804 when the first stage coach line for passengers was established be- 
tween Philadelphia and Pittsburg it required seven days to go from one place 
to the other and that not unattended with many hardships and inconveniences. 
Now one can go comfortably to bed in a Pennsylvania Pullman at 7 o'clock in 
the evening in Philadelphia and wake up 9% hours later in Pittsburg. 

As the country developed westward, with travel and transportation neces- 
sarily overland in the manner above mentioned, it very early became evident 
that good roads and routes of travel were of prime importance to the growth 
of the nation. Especially was it obvious to the m.embers of the National Gov- 
ernment at Washington, and to all public-spirited citizens, that a great highway 
between the East and the West was a national necessity. The first practical 
step in this direction was taken in the year 1803, when Thomas Jefferson was 
President. 

A set of commissioners were appointed, with an appropriation by Congress, 
to lay out and construct a national road. According to Hon. T. B. Searight, 
who has written a most complete and fascinating history of that road, from 
which we quote extensively: "Tradition attributes to Henry Clay the concep- 
tion of the national road, but this seems to be an error. The Hon. Andrew 
Stewart ('Tariff Andy,' one of Fayette's most illustrious statesmen) in a speech 
in Congress in 1829 asserted that 'Mr. Albert Gallatin (another, and by far the 
most distinguished national character ever sent out by our home county) was 
the very first man that ever suggested the plan for making the Cumberland (or 
national) road.' " 

The road as constructed by the authority of Congress, and which, by the 
way, is the only highway of its kind ever wholly constructed by the Govern- 
ment of the United States, begins at the city of Cumberland, in the State of 
Maryland, and this is the origin by the name "Cumberland road." The connect- 
ing link between Cumberland and the city of Baltimore, including Washington, 

183 



is a much older road, constructed and owned by a private company, and the 
two together extending into Ohio, constitute the national road, which follows, 
in part, the old Nemacolin trail, mentioned in another chapter, and Braddock's 
and Washington's road over the mountains to Uniontown and on across the 
county to the Monongahela at Brownsville. 

While it appears from the authority quoted that Henry Clay was not the 
planner of the national road, he was undoubtedly its ablest and most conspicuous 
champion. He worked long and earnestly for the early completion of the road, 
"begging, entreating and supplicating Congress session after session to make 
the necessary appropriations." He said: "I have myself toiled until my pow- 
ers have been exhausted and prostrated to prevail on you to make the grant." 
No wonder Mr. Clay was a popular favorite along the whole line of the road. 

From the time it was thrown open to the public, in the year 1818, until the 
coming of the railroads west of the Allegheny Mountains in 1852, the national 
road was the one great highway over which passed the bulk of trade and travel 
and the mails between the East and the West. 

Many of the most illustrious statesmen and heroes of the early period of 
our national existence passed over the national road from their homes to the 
capital and back at the opening and closing of the sessions of Congress. 

Jackson, Harrison, Clay, Sam Houston, Polk, Taylor, Crittenden, Shelby, 
Allen, Scott, Butler, the eccentric Davy Crocket, and many of their contem- 
poraries in public service, were familiar figures in the eyes of the dwellers by 
the roadside. Many stories are yet treasured by the old "pike boys" concern- 
ing these noted men of the early day. A coach in which Mr. Clay was pro- 
ceeding to Washington was upset on a pile of limestone in the main street of 
Uniontown a few minutes after supper at the McClelland House. Sam Sibley 
was the driver, and had his nose broken by the accident. Mr. Clay was unhurt, 
and upon being extricated from the grounded coach, facetiously remarked that 
"this is mixing the Clay of Kentucky with the limestone of Pennsylvania." 

As many as twenty four-horse coaches have been counted in line at one 
time on this old road, and the large broad-wheeled canvas-covered Conestoga 
wagons, laden with merchandise and drawn by six horses were visible all the 
day long at every point, and many times until late in the evening, besides in- 
numerable caravans of horses, mules, cattle, hogs and sheep. It looked more 
like the leading avenue of a great city than a road through rural districts. 

It is the sincere belief of all "old pike boys" that the stage lines of the na- 
tional road were never equalled in spirit and dash on any road, in any age or 
country. The chariots of the Appian Way. drawn by the fastest horses of 
ancient Italy, formed a dismal cortege in comparison with the sprightly pro- 
cession of stage coaches on the old American highway. The grandeur of the 
old mail coach is riveted forever in the memory of the pike boy. To see it 
ascending a long hill, increasing speed when nearing the summit, then moving 
rapidly over the intervening level to the top of the next hill, and dashing down 
it- a driver like the stately Redding Bunting wielding the whip and handling 

184 



the reins — revealed a scene that will never be forgotten. And there was an- 
other feature of the old stage lines that left a lasting mark on rr»emory's tablet. 
It was the "Postillion." A groom with two horses was stationed at the foot 
of many of the long hills, and added to the ordinary team of four horses to aid 
in making the ascent. The summit gained, the extra horses were quickly de- 
tached and returned to await and aid the next coming coach, and this was the 
"Postillion." 

Excitement followed in the wake of the coaches all along the road. Their 
arrival in the towns was the leading event of each day, and they were so reg- 
ular in transit that farmers along the road knew the exact hour by their coming 
without the aid of watch or clock. They ran night and day alike. Relays of 
fresh horses were placed at intervals of twelve miles as nearly as practicable. 
Ordinarily, a driver had charge of one team only, which he drove and cared 
for. Mail drivers, however, in many instances, drove three or four teams and 
more, which were cared for by grooms at the stations. Teams were changed 
almost in the twinkling of an eye. The coach was driven rapidly to a station, 
where a fresh team stood ready harnessed and waiting on the roadside. The 
moment the team came to a halt the driver threw down the reins and almost 
instantly the incoming team was detached, the fresh one was attached, the reins 
thrown back to the driver, who did not leave his seat, and away again went the 
coach at full speed, the usual group of loafers meanwhile looking on and enjoy- 
ing the exciting scene. The horses used were showy and superb, the admiration 
of all who beheld them. 

There was one mail coach that was especially imposing. On its gilded sides 
appeared the picture of a post boy with flying horse and horn, and beneath it in 
gilt letters this awe-inspiring inscription: 

"He comes, the herald of a noisy world, 
News from all nations lumbering at his back." 

No boy who beheld that old coach will ever forget it. The coaches were all 
handsomely and artistically painted and ornamented. There were three seats 
furnished with luxurious cushions and three persons could sit comfortably on 
each, so that nine passengers made a full load as far as the interior was con- 
cerned. A seat by the side of the driver was more coveted in fair weather than 
a seat within. During the prosperous era of the road it was not uncommon to 
see as many as fifteen coaches in continuous procession, and both ways, east 
and west, there would be thirty each day. 

The road was justly renowned for the great number and excellence of its 
inns or taverns. On the mountain division every mile had its tavern. Many 
of them with inviting seats for idlers, and all with cheerful fronts toward the 
weary travelers. The sign-boards were elevated upon high and heavy posts, 
and their golden letters winking in the sun, ogled the wayfarer from the hot 
roadbed and gave promise of good cheer, while the big trough, overflowing 
with clear, fresh water and the ground below it sprinkled with fragrant pepper- 

185 



mint, lent a charm to the scene that was well nigh enchanting. The great ma- 
jority of the taverns were called wagon stands, because their patrons were 
largely made up of wagoners, and each was provided with grounds called the 
wagon-yard, whereon team.s were driven to feed and rest over night. The very 
best of entertainment was furnished at these wagon-stands. The taverns 
whereat stage horses were kept and exchanged and stage passengers took meals 
were called "stage houses" and were located at intervals of about twelve miles. 
Whisky was the leading beverage, and was plentiful and cheap. Three cents a 
drink at the or^.inary taverns and five cents at the more aristocratic "stage 
houses." The current coins were the big copper cent, the "fippeny bit" (6^ 
cents), the "levy" (12i,4 cents), the quarter, half dollar and dollar. A hungry 
traveler could obtain a substantial meal at an old wagon tavern for a "levy," 
and two drinks of whisky for a "ftp." 

One of the old time wagoners who used to drive on the national road, and 
with whom the writer was acquainted when a boy, relates that he has stayed 
over night at one of these old-time taverns when there would be as many as 
thirty six-horse teams in the wagon yard, one hundred Kentucky mules in an 
adjacent lot, a thousand hogs in other enclosures and as many fat cattle from 
the West in adjoining fields. The music made by this large number of hogs 
in eating corn on a frosty night I will never forget. After supper and atten- 
tion to the teams the wagoners would gather in the barroom and listen to mu- 
sic on the violin, furnished by one of their fellows, have a "Virginia hoe-down," 
sing songs, tell anecdotes and hear experience of drivers and drovers from all 
points on the road, and when it was all over, unroll their beds, lay them down 
on the floor before the barroom fire, side by side, and sleep, with their feet to 
the fire, as soundly as under the paternal roof. 

Space forbids our continuing these references to the most historically inter- 
esting highway ever constructed in the United States. The old pike, with all 
its faverns and travel, is little more than a memory now. Though most bitterly 
resisted and long fought back by some of the ablest men of the day, the rail- 
roads finally pushed their way over the mountains and on into the great grow- 
ing West, and the glories of the old national road were forever a thing of the 
past. 

"We hear no more of the clanging hoof. 
And the stage coach rattling by; 
For the steam king rules the traveled world, 
And the old pike's left to die." 

And likewise the old tavern, once so familiar and popular, for now 

"It stands all alone like a goblin in gray. 
The old-fashioned inn of a pioneer day, 
In a land so forlorn and forgotten it seems 

186 



Like a wraith of the past rising into our dreams; 

Its glories have vanished, and only the ghost 

Of a sign-board now creaks on its desolate post, 

Recalling a time when all hearts were akin 

As they rested at night in that welcoming inn. 

Oh, the songs they would sing, and the tales they would spin, 

As they lounged in the light of the old country inn. 

But a day came at last when the stage brought no load 

To the gate, as it rolled up the long dusty road. 

And lo! at the sunrise a shrill whistle blew 

O'er the hills — and the old yielded place to the new — 

And a merciless age with its discord and din 

Made wreck, as it passed, of the pioneer inn." 




THE OLD (VALLI'V CRADLE. 

The Rocker of Five Generations. 
(4;-;8Hcnry Galley) 



CHANGES IN THE WEATHER. 

We frequently hear reference made by our older citizens to the changes 
they have noticed in the seasons and general weather conditions since they 
were young. Some have questioned the value of these statements, attributing 
the apparent changes more to the influence of time on untrustworthy memories 
than to actual conditions. That the development of the country, cutting away 
of the forests, cultivation of the soil, etc., has, however, had a material and 
noticeable effect on the weather at certain seasons of the year seems to be be- 
yond question. These changes have been going on so very gradually since the 
days of the first settlers that it would be difficult for anyone to recollect or de- 
scribe just how or when they took place. Almost all of us, young or old, think 
we have seen marked changes. We are very prone to say "we have no good 
old-fashioned winters now like we used to have when I was a boy," and this 
may be true, but a single lifetime, though comparatively long, is hardly time 
enough from which to draw conclusions. 

In consulting one who lived and wrote concerning this region, seventy-five 
or a hundred years ago, we find such statements as these: 

"At the first settlement of this country west of the mountains the summers 
were rather cooler than they are at present. We scarcely ever had a single 
warm night, the evenings were cool and the mornings frequently uncomfortably 
cold. The coldness of the nights was owing to the deep shade of the lofty 
forest trees which everywhere covered the ground. In addition to this, the sur- 
face of the earth was still further shaded by large crops of wild grass and weeds 
which prevented it from becoming heated by the rays of the sun during the 
day. 

"One distressing circumstance resulted from the wild herbage of our wilder- 
ness — it produced immense swarms of gnats, mosquitoes and horse flies which 
gave such annoyance to men and beasts that they may justly be reckoned among 
the plagues of the country. It was customary to build large fires of old logs 
about the forts, the smoke of which kept the flies from the cattle, which soon 
learned to change their position with every change of wind, so as to keep them- 
selves constantly in the smoke. 

"Our summers in the early times were mostly very dry. The beds of our 
large creeks presented nothing but naked rocks. The mills were not expected 
to do any grinding after the latter part of May excepting for a short time after 
a thunder shower. 

"It was a frequent saying among our farmers that three good rains were 
sufficient to make a crop of corn if they happened at the right time. 

"Frost and snow set in much earlier in former times than of late. Hunting 
usually commenced about the middle of October. November was regarded as 
a winter month, as the winter frequently set in with severity during that month 
and sometimes at an earlier period. 

188 



"For a long time after the settlement of the country we had an abundance 
of snow in comparison to the amount we usually have now. It was no unusual 
thing to have snows from one to three feet deep and of long continuance. Our 
people often became tired of seeing the monotonous aspect of the country so 
long covered with a deep snow and longed to see the ground bare once more. 

"I well remember the labor of opening roads through these deep snows, 
which often fell in a single night, to the barn, the spring, the smoke-house and 
the corn crib. The labor of getting wood after a deep fall of snow was in the 
highest degree disagreeable. A tree once fallen was literally buried in the snow. 

"The depth of the snows, the extreme cold and the length of our winters 
were indeed distressing to the first settlers who were but poorly provided with 
clothing and whose cabins were mostly very open and uncomfortable. Getting 
wood, making fires, feeding the stock and going to mill were considered suffi- 
cient employment for any family, and truly those labors left little time for 
anything else. 

"The spring of the year in former times was pretty much like our present 
springs. We commonly had an open spell of weather during the latter part 
cf February. The month of March was commonly stormy and disagreeable 
throughout. Sugar was often made in the early part of April. It sometimes 
happened that a great part of April was but little better than March with re- 
gard to storms of rain, snow and cold weather. 

"I once noticed forty frosts after the first day of April. We never con- 
sidered ourselves secure from frosts until the first ten days of May had passed. 

"Now our summers are much warmer, our falls much milder and longer and 
our winters shorter by at least one month and accompanied with much less 
snow and cold than formerly." 

What causes have affected these changes in our weather and what we may 
reasonably suppose will be the ultimate extent of this change is problematic. 

The future prospect of the weather throughout the whole extent of this 
western country is not very flattering. 

The thermometer in the hottest parts of our summer months already aver- 
ages from 90 to 100 degrees, which is a frightful degree of heat for a country as 
yet not half cleared of its native timber." 

These observations were published in 1824. Our readers, many of them 
will be in position to make comparisons and draw further conclusions of their 
own, especially as to the fears and predictions at that time. Whether as great 
changes have taken place since the above facts were noted as in the fifty years 
or so immediately before, may be a disputed question. 

Many of the older citizens to day tell us they have seen quite a little dif- 
ference in the seasons in the past fifty years. They tell us that it used to be 
<juite comm.on in this region to sow oats in March, and to be all done planting 
torn before the first of May. Now oats is not sown until late in April and 
corn planting done before the middle of May to the first of June. 

In the fall, winter is not expected now before the middle to the last of 
November. 

189 



INDIAN SUMMER. 

The term "Indian Summer" is one that is perhaps as familiar to all our 
readers as the names of the seasons themselves. As long as you can remember 
you have heard this expression applied to that peculiar hazy spell of warm 
weather that usually comes along in October and early November. But did 
you ever stop to inquire as to its origin and significance? We find that most 
persons of the present day have not. They know what the so-called Indian 
summer is; that in many respects it is one of the most beautiful seasons of all 
the year; that it is neither winter nor summer, but has its own peculiar char- 
acteristics which in some respects resemble both, and that with all the beauty 
and gayety and general good feeling that this particular time in the autumn is 
calculated to bring, it is also the time of which it has been well said "the mel- 
ancholy days have come, the saddest of the year." Most persons naturally sup- 
pose that the name had its origin in some way with the Indians, but they can- 
not tell just how. Others attempt to explain the use of the term in the fact 
that at that particular season the maize, or Indian corn, is ripe and ready for 
harvest, and as this was practically the only grain the Indians raised, therefore, 
this was their harvest time, or summer, hence it became known as "Indian 
Summer." 

This, however, does not appear to be the correct explanation if we are to 
believe the records of the life and times of the earliest settlers. The term 
'Indian Summer" is another instance — of which there are many in our modern 
language — of the continued use of an expression long after its original import 
has been forgotten. When first made use of among our hardy pioneers this ex- 
pression "Indian Summer" was applied to a season that was indeed the "sad- 
dest of all the year," but for entirely different reasons than those that later 
inspired the good old New England poet. It was not the "death of the flow- 
ers" that caused our first settlers to look with dread to the Indian Summer, but 
often the death at the hands of the Indians of some of their own number. It 
is said that the early backwoodsman seldom heard this expression without 
feeling the chill of horror, because it brought to his mind the painful recollec- 
tions of its original application. The reader must here be reminded that during 
the long continued Indian wars sustained by the first settlers of our western 
country they enjoyed no peace excepting in the winter season, when, owing to 
the severity of the weather, the Indians were unable to make their visits to the 
settlement. 

The onset of winter was therefore hailed as a jubilee by the early inhabit- 
ants of the country who, throughout the spring and early part of the fall, had 
been cooped up in their little uncomfortable forts and subjected to all the dis- 
tresses of the Indian war. 

At the approach of winter, therefore, all the farmers, excepting the owner 
of the fort, removed to their cabins on their farms with the joyful feeling of 

190 



prisoners set free. All was bustle and hilarity in preparing for winter, by gath- 
ering in the corn, digging potatoes, fattening hogs and preparing the cabins. 

To our forefathers the gloomy months of the winter were more pleasant 
than the zephyrs of spring and the flowers of May. It, however, sometimes 
happened that after the apparent onset of winter, or what was often spoken of 
as "squaw winter," the weather became warm. The smoky time commenced 
and lasted for a considerable number of days. This was the "Indian Summer" 
because it afforded the Indians another opportunity of visiting the settlement 
with their destructive warfare. 

The melting of the snow saddened every countenance, and the genial 
warmth of the sun chilled every heart with horror. 

The apprehension of another visit from the Indians and of being driven 
back to the detested fort was painful in the highest degree, and the distressing 
apprehension was frequently realized. 

Thus, our readers will see, was the origin of this term we now use so 
thoughtlessly. 

We see also in this explanation a corroboration of the statements elsewhere 
made as to the change of seasons since the first opening up of this region. We 
would see but little now so far as the weather of the early fall is concerned to 
justify the above explanation, for we seldom or never have the onset of winter 
until after the so-called "Indian Summer" is all over. Especially are there no 
tig snows or other severe winter weather nowadays before this bunch of de- 
layed summ.er that would appear to us sufficient to hinder or restrain the depre- 
dations of the savages. But we do not doubt the correctness of the explanation 
given, for it is from the best of authorities and can be verified in more ways 
than one. 




191 



APPLEBUTTER MAKING. 

Applebutter making took place in the fall. Large quantities of this once 
famous and familiar "diet auxiliary" used to be made and stored away every 
fall by all well-regulated families. And it was none of the pale, puny, wishy- 
washy article that we sometimes see masquerading under the lable of "apple- 
butter" to-day. 

When once our grandmothers had done with the process of applebutter 
making, and had filled sundry cans, crocks and jars with supply enough to last 
a year or two, there remained no room for doubt as to the genuineness of their 
product. It had a depth of color, a life and vigor and general robustness of 
strength about it that bespoke longevity and great physical endurance. 

The much vaunted "ever remorseless Hand of Time" found its match when 
it tackled a five-gallon crock of good old-fashioned applebutter, for the said 
applebutter invariably came out of a two or three years combat with this vet- 
eran wrecker of youth and usefulness with colors flying, with strength renewed 
and more capable than ever of going it alone. 

Long years after great-grandfather Philip Galley had left Lancaster County 
to cast his lot and rear his numerous progeny in the valley of the "Yough," 
there was said to be stored in the Lancaster Museum a specimen of applebutter 
that had gone through the Revolutionary War; stood shoulder to shoulder with 
the patriots of our young Republic in the war of 1812; helped to elect a half 
a dozen Presidents, and still looked the picture of blooming youth and towering 
strength. 

The first step in applebutter making was to prepare the cider. Of course, 
everybody made cider in those earlier days, and most families had a home-made 
cider mill and press. Some communities, however, depended upon a common 
mill where the neighbors from far and near hauled their apples by the wagon 
loads, and had them made up "on the shares." The apples used for this pur- 
fose were usually the defective ones — those shaken off by the wind or in the 
process of picking, or from certain trees that were of a variety not suitable for 
market or storage — all kinds, good, bad and indifferent, were loaded up in the 
early autumn and taken to the cider mill. Here the first thing to do was to 
grind them. Then they were put on the press, which worked with a great 
wooden screw. There was some skill required to properly place the juice- 
laden mass of ground apples within the rye-straw enclosures, layer on layer, and 
then slowly and carefully screw down on these the compressing plank in such 
a way as to drive out all the cider without bursting the "cheese." 

The blocks of pummace that remained after this process was complete, were 
perfectly dry and so solidly compressed that they could be handled en masse. 

!92 



The cider was placed in barrels, and a part of it put away in the cellar to 
ferment and "go to vinegar." You remember how you used to fish out some 
'mother" from that old "stock" barrel that had been standing there in the 
corner for so many years, and place it in the new supply, to "hurry it up." A 
part of it was placed convenient for daily use, for fresh cider, and cider that, 
after a week or so, began to taste quite "sharp," even after it reached that 
stage when it was called "hard cider," was once a very common beverage in 
many homes: and a part of it was "boiled down" at once before it began to fer- 
ment for applebutter making. 

Two or three barrels of the fresh juice would be placed in the old sugar 
kettles perhaps, or other large boilers, over log fires and boiled down to a com- 
paratively few gallons of thick syrupy liquid, which could be put away and kept 
indefinitely, or until such time as it was convenient to prepare the apples and 
make it up. 

Then came the "paring bees," or "apple bees," as they were called, which 
usually began along in October and were looked upon as the ushering in of 
the season of frolic for the young folks. These "apple bees" were not only for 
preparing the apples used for butter, but those used for drying as well, for in 
the good old days our grandmothers dried their own fruit. They were very 
popular occasions and brought the young folks of the neighborhood together 
several times during the season, for each family in turn would give an "apple 
bee," to which all the others would be invited. 

The folks would gather early in the evening, and by 7.30 o'clock everybody 
was at work busy as bees, and the big old kitchen would ring vvnth merry jest 
and laughter. If the apples were to be dried they were cut round and strung 
on long threads and hung in festoons above and around the great open fire- 
place. If they were for butter they were pared and quartered and cored and 
put in tubs or other large vessels till the next day, when the boiling would begin. 
It was worth all it cost in time and labor to get up one of these old-time "ap- 
ple bees." There were pies, buns, doughnuts and all kinds of edibles to pre- 
pare, and in no small quantity, either, for these merry workers had fine appe- 
tites and would have considered it awfully mean in their hostess not to have 
given them enough to eat, so after two or three hours work the good house- 
wife made ready this feast which put everybody in fine humor for the part of 
the program that was still to come, the part the young folks had been anxiously 
looking forward to all evening, namely, the dance, or as they often preferred 
to call it, the "play party," for in some communities the religious denominations 
were so opposed to dancing that any members caught at it would be "churched," 
lence it was often a matter of policy on the part of these good-natured sinners 
to apply the more innocent name of "play party" and thus tend to disarm sus- 
picion. Everybody joined heartily in this old-fashioned dance, which was 
jsually led by an "orchestra" consisting of one fiddle operated either by one of 
:he party or by some well known "virtuoso" of the neighborhood who had been 
nduced to be on hand by a promise to "pass the hat." If no fiddler could be 

193 



found for the evening or for matters of policy none had been invited, the "party" 
went off just the same, even more lively, it appeared sometimes, for in the 
absence of instrumental music everybody joined the heartier in "singing" the 
dances, "Kil-a-ma-cranky 'tis a fine song, sing it and dance it all along, from 
the heel unto the toe, Kil-a-ma-cranky, here we go," was always equal to the 
occasion, and could be relied upon to start the "party" off at a lively pace. 
There was no ban against all kinds of plays, just so they were not called dances, 
not even against kissing plays, for, of course, this was before the invention of 
germs and deadly microbes, and so long as it was only a "play party" no one 
objected even though there was more romping and dancing than at a regular 
dance, with the kissing thrown in. The kissing in the games was merely in- 
cidental — a pleasant way of paying forfeits, particularly so, if from the right 
one. What a blessing to our grandmothers in their light-hearted girlhood days 
that they were blissfully ignorant of the dangers that lurked on the lips of our 
audacious granddaddies every time they "swapped microbes" in those old- 
time kissing games! 

No doubt some who read these sketches have taken part in such games 
and at this far distant date they do not seem to have been specially bad or dan- 
gerous; at any rate, you bravely took your chances and you've lived to tell the 
tale. Your sentiments in those days perhaps could have been appropriately ex- 
pressed as follows: 

"Though some affirm a deadly germ lurks in the sweetest kiss, let's hope 
the day is far away of antiseptic bliss; to sterilize a lady's sighs would simply 
be outrageous, I'd much prefer to humor her and let her be contagious." 

The big old clock in the corner ofttimes chimed the midnight hour before 
these parties broke up, nevertheless the good housewife was up early the next 
morning ready to make the applebutter. The apples, which had been pared 
the night before, were carefully washed and put in the big copper kettle that 
hung on the stout iron crane in the old open fireplace. Sufficient water was 
added and the apples were cooked till soft, when the boiled cider was added a 
little at a time, and sometimes a little brown sugar and cinnamon or otheq 
spices were added. The boiling mass now had to be stirred constantly with a 
long-handled wooden stirrer, and wasn't it a job to stir all that batch of cider 
and apples until it thickened down to just the right thing and never once let it 
"stick" or "burn" at the bottom? (See illustration.) 

It was no easy work to run that big stirrer for hours at a time, and it took 
several persons to do the work right. Sometimes the boiling was taken up in 
the afternoon and evening, and a number of young folks again gathered in to 
help through with the job, and have more fun and frolic. We are even told 
that lovemaking went on around the applebutter kettle, for a boy and girl would 
cften make lighter work by running the stirrer together. There was work 
enough in it for a number of persons. Of course, it was a wood fire and some 
one or more had to keep plenty of fuel on hand and see that the blaze was not 

194 




"IT WAS NO EASY WORK TO RUN THAT BIG STIRRER FOR HOrRS 

AT A TIME." 

too high or too low. Sometimes the kettle was swung over an out-door log 
fire, and this required even closer watching. As the butter got thicker and" 
thicker it got harder to stir, and the folks had to "spell" each other oftener, 
and they had to watch, too, not to let the blubbering, sputtering contents of 
the kettle fly en any one, for it would make a nasty burn. 

When finally the apples and cider had all been added and the boiling had 
gone on for several hours, some old-time expert applebutter maker would begin 
to "test" the contents of the kettle at intervals to see when it was "done" or 
strong enough to keep. 

This "test" consisted in taking out a ladle of butter on a dish to see if the 
cider "weeps out" round the edges. If it does, it must go on cooking and 
stirring, but it must be watched carefully now, for it is getting thick and will 
"burn" easily. When it is found, however, that the cider no longer weeps out, 
but all forms a simple heap on the saucer, it is ready to take off and to dip 
out into crocks, perhaps 20 or 30 gallons being made at once. When cool, the 
tops of the crocks were tied over with paper, then it was stored away in the 
old fruit cupboard or en shelves in the garret or cellar and "we ate applebutter 
\ three times a day for three hundred and sixty-five days in the year, and every 
time it tasted like more." 



BUTCHERING TIME. 

The "apple bees" were scarcely ended till the butchering season was ush- 
ered in. This was along about Thanksgiving week. Often Thanksgiving Day 
was celebrated with the butchering frolic. Of course, it depended somewhat 
en the season, for butchering had to wait for cold weather. 

Butchering and the work pertaining thereto, like nearly everything else, has 
had its changes since the "olden time," but perhaps these changes have not been 
as great as in many other kinds of farm work. No great labor-saving machine, 
for instance, has yet been devised for killing, cleaning and cutting up the fat 
porkers. Numerous smaller devices, however, have greatly facilitated the var- 
ious side-jobs that go with butchering. The greatest difference, perhaps, be- 
tween butcherings past and present is in the social features attending them. 
Just as on every other occasion that brought the farmers together in the earlier 
days, butchering was made the occasion for much sociability and sport. For 
the time being at least, on account of the preparation necessary with its ac- 
companying excitement and work, butchering time completely broke the monot- 
ony of the quiet pursuits of rural life. When a family had set a day for butch- 
ering, word was sent to a number of the neighbors who would be expected to 
help and preparations for the occasion were begun all around. Wood was then 
no object, and plenty of it was hauled and cut to suit the indoor and outdoor 
uses. Several large kettles, if not on hand, had to be brought home or bor- 
rowed from the neighbors. The old heavy sled was dragged from its usual 
place in the wagon shed and located at a convenient spot in the butchering 
yard. At one end of the sled the earth was dug away, so as to allow the plac- 
ing of a large strong barrel or hogshead, partly sunken in the ground with its 
open top leaning toward the sled. Nearby a "log heap" was built ready for 
firing and in this "log heap" quite a number of good sized stones, old plow- 
points or other pieces of metal were placed so as to be heated by the burning 
wood. Tools were hunted up, knives and axes sharpened, buckets, basins and 
other materials were gotten in readiness. 

On the appointed day all hands were out bright and early, and long before 
dawn the "log heap" was fired, or if the water for the hogshead was heated in 
the large kettles then the fires were started under these, so that by the time the 
first hog was ready to scald the water would be boiling. 

In the "log heap" method of heating the water, the stones and metals be- 
fore mentioned were allowed to become red hot in the burning pile of wood and 
were then shoveled into the hogshead in sufficient quantity to bring the water 
to the required temperature. One of the happiest and most vivid pictures of 
butchering day, as we recall it now, was that old log heap in the early morning, 
blazing away with no light but its own, with vast spiral columns of smoke as- 
cending through the frosty air, and the roaring, crackling blaze, accompanied 
now and then by the loud report of a bursting stone, which caused myriads of 

1% 



'•sparks to fly upward" in pyrotechnic displays that were really beautiful. Break- 
fast, of course, was eaten by candle light, and by the time it was over the men 
who were to assist were gathering in and forming a jolly, joking crowd as they 
warmed themselves about the blazing log heap. 

The younger folks, boys especially, looked forward with considerable in- 
terest to the day, for it meant a crowd and lots of excitement and fun, and boys 
have always craved the excitement and display of unusual activity that goes with 
a crowd. True, they would be called upon for their full share of the work, 
running errands, turning the grindstone, carrying water and wood and hunting 
up kindling and buckets and crocks for the women's use and dozens of other 
chores, but what did all this amount to (to the boys) if they were permitted to 
stay home from school on butchering day! Then they could be on hand to get 
the bladders to blow up and keep for a "Christmas crack." Where is the man 
whose boyhood was blessed with such privileges that never experienced the 
fun occasioned by stealthily placing one of these distended bladders near a 
company of the "big folks" and then jumping on it with both feet? The ex- 
plosion was terriffic. but entirely harmless, except that it frightened the women 
half out of their wits, and made it necessary for the small boy to "skidoo" in 
lively manner to avoid sundry harmless missiles that would be fired after him. 
Christmas day usually gave license to all such noisy tricks, as well as furnished 
in the company that gathered in, exceptional opportunities for playing them, and 
no small amount of compensation for the extra work at butchering time has 
often come to the boys through their stock of blown up hogs' bladders. 

Sometimes these bladders were sold at the neighboring town, for they used 
to be used to contain snuff. 

The boy was sometimes permitted also to collect other "off haul," such as 
bristles, pig-tails, hearts, livers, etc., to have for hit, own and to sell and keep 
the money himself. By this means did many a boy secure his first pocket- 
knife, money purse or other coveted article. Some of you old boys who follow 
these sketches remember yet what an exciting pleasure it was to be permitted 
to go along with father to market in the big heavy loaded two-horse wagon and 
take your own butchering perquisites, with perhaps some rabbits or partridges 
you had trapped. The sum you received when you finally found a buyer was 
not large; but it meant much to you. and on your return your new cap or knife 
became the envy or admiration of all your schoolmates and you strutted about 
for many days under the proud distinction of having "been to town." 

But to return to the butchering. Breakfast over, the "hands" all assembled, 
and everything in readiness, the jolly crowd anxiously awaited the word "go." 
which came as soon as there was enough daylight, and indeed this was not al- 
ways waited for. many a hog having been killed by the light of the blazing log 
heap. 

The fat porkers, as a rule, had been driven from the pen and allowed to 
wear off their first bit of excitement while the men were waiting for light enough 
to see to shoot, for this was the usual method of killing, though sometimes the 

197 



hogs were stuck as they lay in the pen, then driven out and made to walk up 
beside the sled and bleed to death. With the shooting of the first hog the fun.; 
and the work began in earnest. The old muzzle-loading rifle was banteringly i 
handed to some one who must make such a good shot, even if it was yet so , 
dark that he could scarcely see the sights, that there would be no "squeals,"^ 
for that would put the marksman in disgrace for the day and make him the| 
subject of many jibes and jests. If, however, he made a good shot, some one: 
selected for the purpose at once ran in and did the "sticking" with a large 
butcher knife. Then came the dragging in and lifting on to the sled, followed i 
by the plunge into the scalding water of the barrel, first one end of the hog and i 
then the other, and out again en to the sled where all that could get around 
the animal began with shouts and hearty good will to scrape off and pull out 
the bristles. In a few minutes the first hog was white and clean and ready to 
"hang up," and the second one was being "downed," or as was often the case] 
when help was plenty, two hogs were downed at a time. This gave chance to 
divide up the work more now, some gutting and dressing the hogs that werei 
suspended on the pole erected for the purpose, while others continued to slaugh-l 
ter and scald and scrape. This was repeated until the six or eight hogs werei 
all up. Great pride was taken in seeing how early in the day this could be done. | 
It was the aim to have the hogs all strung up and cleaned by nine or ten o'clockj 
in the morning, according to the size of the butchering. ] 

After the hogs had become sufficiently cool, they were taken down to be! 
cut up and weighed, which involved another excitement, seeing who could come' 
nearest to guessing the weight. In the meantime, the women in the kitchen: 
and dining room had not been idle, and by the time the men had finished this] 
first part of their work they were invited into the house to partake of one ofi 
the biggest and best dinners of all the year. 

Dinner over, there was still plenty of work for the afternoon, especially, 
for the women. Rending the lard, making sausage, liver wort, scrapple, pud-j 
dings, mince-meat, etc., would keep all hands busy for the afternoon and even-. 

ing. 

The men frequently spent at least a part of the afternoon in shooting at a; 
mark or other sports and games. The main work being over, and having hadj 
a good big dinner, they were in just the right mood to be full of fun and up to] 
jokes and tricks on each other. Sometimes they would divide off on sides andi 
have a regular shooting match. Most of the men in those days prided them-: 
selves on good marksmanship, and many became quite expert at "driving the] 
tack," which was used to hold a small white patch about an inch square on a' 
blackened block or board. At 25 to 50 paces it required a cool, steady nerve' 
to be able to knock the centre or even hit the patch, especially if the shooting] 
was done "off hand," as it was called, or without a "rest." ] 

We are told that in the earlier days of the pioneers, shooting at a mark was ; 
a common and useful diversion among men, when their supply of ammunition; 
would permit it, but that the present method of shooting "off hand" was not: 
then in practice. In fact, off-hand shooting was not considered much of a test,. 

lyts 



either of the value of a gun or the skill of a marksman. Their shooting was 
with a rest and at as great a distance as the length and bore of the gun would 
throw a ball on a horizontal line. Rifles in those days were much different 
from those of a later date. Few of them carried more than forty-five bullets 
to the pound. Balls of less size were not thought sufficiently heavy for hunting 
or war. 

These butchering day shooting matches often became very exciting, espe- 
cially if they were accompanied, as they often were, with plenty of hard cider, 
or sometimes something even harder. There was usually in the crowd one or 
two "smarties" or "greenhorns," gullible fellows who could be made the butt of 
a great deal of good natured fun, and there was always a "wag" or two just 
suited for keeping up such tricks. For instance, we are told how life was mads 
miserable all afternoon for one man who was known to be easily "plagued" by 
loading his gun when it came his turn to shoot with a split bullet. This bullet 
when artfully handled in loading appeared all right, but of course would not 
"carry" and would never hit the target. By playing this mean trick every once 
in a while, allowing the victim to use good bullets part of the time, the crowd 
had the laugh on the would-be smart marksman all the day. Sometimes prac- 
tically the same trick was played when a beef or hog was to be shot. Either 
the gun would not be properly loaded or if this part was closely watched, by 
various ruses, an opportunity could often be found to remove the bullet with a 
ramrod constructed for that purpose. On one such occasion as this, when one 
of the party who had been pretty loud in his boasts about his hog-killing ability 
and other evidences of his crack marksmanship was about to shoot a hog, he 
was handed a rifle from which the ball had been surrepticiously extracted, while, 
of course, the crowd all looked on, having been given the word quietly. Our 
unsuspecting victim picked out his hog, stood off about thirty feet, took fair aim 
and fired with a loud report as usual. 

The result was the mutual staring at each other of hog and marksman, 
while, of course, the whole crowd joined in uproarious laughter. The hog merely 
grunted defiantly and went on rooting into the soft earth as if nothing had hap- 
pened. Now the somewhat crest-fallen expert shot, unable to explain his utter 
failure to even touch the hog, made excuse that he was not used to that gun, 
that he had brought his own rifle that morning and if some one would bring it 
from the house he would show them how to use a gun that would shoot. Just 
this turn in affairs had been anticipated by the parties to the trick, and the ball 
had likewise been carefully removed from this brag gun, so it was willingly 
and quickly produced, and needless to say this second attempt was even more 
disastrous than the first, so far as its effects on the marksman and the crowd 
and its entire absence of effects upon the hog was concerned. 

The tricksters having previously arranged for it, now had one of the oldest 
men in the party step up and demand the gun in disgust, saying he used to be 
able to do better than that himself, and, quickly loading the gun, he stepped a 
little nearer the animal and shot it without further ado. This was too much for 
Dur erstwhile bragging crack-shot; he could not understand it, and to keep his 

199 



attention from the real cause of his humiliation, the crowd almost convinced 
him that some one had been "doctoring" the cider he had been drinking, and 
that he should not drink any more that day, as it was now quite evident to 
everybody but himself that he was not accountable for his acts. 

So much for a glance at some of the diversions of butchering day after- 
noon. It was seldom that the work ended with the day. Much remained to 
be done that night, and several of the neighbors usually remained to help out 
with the making of the mince-meat, stuffing the sausage, etc. In the earUer 
times these were no easy jobs, for they had all to be done by hand. The mince- 
meat was chopped on a block or heavy plank with side boards on three sides, 
leaving the front open, where the chopper stood with a heavy cleaving knife, or 
"meat chopper," in each hand, which he worked rapidly up and down on the 
meat until it was fine enough for its intended purpose. Then came the mixing 
in of all that promiscuous mass of apples, raisins, cider, salt, pepper, cloves, 
cinnamon, allspice and apparently all else that could be found in the kitchen. 

The sausage even required more work. After the meat was ground into 
sausage, it was put into a large tub for mixing. It was quite an art to properly 
mix sausage and it was usually done by one who had a reputation as an expert 
in this work, knowing just how much lean, how much fat and how much salt, 
pepper, and for those who wished it, sage, to put in to make the sausage keep 
well and taste good. There were various ways of preparing and putting the 
sausage away, but the most common method was to stuff it into properly pre- 
pared hog guts, or "casings," as they were called. These "casings" were cleaned 
by turning them wrong side out over a round stick of some kind, carefully 
scraping off the inner or mucous coat, and then thoroughly washing them. They 
were now ready to be stuffed, and this, before the days of the time-saving sau- 
sage stuffer, was a slow and tedious job, and one that required some one with 
3 stout chest and plenty of push, for it was done by pushing the sausage through 
some form of tin horn held against the breast, while yard after yard of the 
"casings" were thus filled. These were then hung in the old smoke house and 
"cured" with hickory wood smoke, after which, like the apple butter, the sau- 
sage would keep for a long time and always tasted like more. 

The meat itself — hams, shoulders and sides — when thoroughly cooled, was 
usually packed in salt in a large hogshead or other tight container until spring, 
when it would be brought out and for several days put through the same pro- 
cess of hickory-wood smoking, after which it was ready to use or to be kept 
indefinitely under the proper conditions, and in hundreds of families in those 
earlier days, was the sole meat supply practically the year round. 



200 



CORN HUSKING. 

"Corn huskings" were once a familiar form of autumn festivities and were 
conducted in different ways according to neighborhood and circumstances. 

One method was for a farmer to invite in all the neighbors round about to 
husk out a field of corn from the shock. Liquid refreshments were always in 
order on such occasions and much hilarity and good natured fun-making took 
place, as well as great speed-contests between individuals and groups. While 
the men and boys were thus at work in the field, their wives and daughters and 
sisters and sweethearts were perhaps as busily engaged around some quilt or 
with a bunch of spinning wheels in the house. The compensating social fea- 
tures came with the big supper and the frolic that followed at night in which 
young and old, buskers, spinners and all took a lively part. 

Another method was to cut the corn and haul it to the barn in the stock, 
where, according to previous invitation, the "merry buskers" would gather for 
an afternoon and evening of work and frolic. Still another plan was to pull the 
ears, unhusked from the stocks and haul them in, where they were piled by 
the wagon-loads in two great semi-circular ricks on the old barn floor, leaving 
a bare space in the middle for receiving the corn as it was husked. Then a 
day would be set and arrangements made for a great "husking party." The 
neighbors far and near would be invited to come and bring their whole families 
— some to do the husking, some to help the good housewife prepare the "big 
supper" and some to furnish the fun and amusement while the others worked. 
We shall reproduce for our younger readers the description of such an old« 
time husking bee that was obtained from one who knew from experience the 
joys and pleasures of the "good old times of long ago." 

So far as possible we shall quote verbatim: 

"This party took place on the afternoon of one of the loveliest days in Oc- 
tober. Nearly the whole neighborhood had been invited and old and young 
both were present, but the boys and girls especially were out in force. Such a 
crowd of young folks! Excitement and fun ran high, but there was no rowdy- 
ism and general good order prevailed. The unhusked corn had been piled up 
in a circle around an open space in the middle of the barn floor. This circle 
was divided into two equal parts, and two of the older girls acted as captains 
to 'choose up' and divide the company off on 'sides.' Then came the liveliest, 
noisest contest you ever saw, to see which side would husk through to the goal 
first, the losing side to pay the forfeits to the 'winners.' A happier set of 
young folks I never saw. I don't believe the young folks nowadays have half 
as much fun at their parties as we had that afternoon. How the boys did work, 
while the girls on each side urged them on, and did their full share of the fun- 
making as well as some of the husking. Tht golden ears flew thick and fast 
as each side tried to outdo the other, and every one watched for a chance to 
play some trick or get a joke on some one else. The greatest fun came when 

201 



occasionally a boy would find a red ear, for he was allowed to take a kiss irovn 
the girl of his choice of the opposite side while all the crowd looked on in great 
hilarity and glee. 

"Of course the 'maiden blush' was as red as the ear of corn, for our girls 
with all their romping, good-natured fun, were modest and lady-like, not yet 
having been spoiled by modern manners and affectations. 

"Certainly on this occasion we had fun. If you never attended such a: 
party, my description can give you but a vague idea of what it was like. Every- 
body and everything, even to the weather and the land clothed in its autumn 
garb, seemed right for such enjoyment. Imagine what a scene was presented 
out there among the hills on that mild October afternoon. A haze spread over 
the landscape that told of the glorious Indian summer; the woods and all the 
trees in their rich and variegated foliage, the dome-like hilltops rising up ma- 
jestically to meet the deep blue sky beyond, and in the far distance the dark 
shades of the old mountains notched into the horizon like a great circular frame 
around the whole picture. Nearby was the small stream winding here and 
there among the meadows, where the 'tinkling of bells told of grazing flocks.' 

"It was a charming, tranquil scene, in the midst of which was our party 
of 'merry buskers,' light-hearted, healthy and happy. 

"As the afternoon wore on, the golden pile in the centre of those two con- 
tending semi-circles, grew higher and higher and the husking contest more and 
more exciting, until finally the last ear was flung on the heap, the losing side 
gracefully paid its forfeits, which again occasioned great merriment, and all 
hands were ready with keen appetites to follow the host to the house, where 
ample justice was done to the waiting meal." 

"This corn buskers' supper was no ordinary affair. In quantity, quality 
and variety, that old table was spread with the best the season could afford 
and was the result of no small amount of work on the part of the hostess and 
her daughters. As one good old grandmother used to express it: "It took 
longer to get the supper than it did to husk the corn," but no one who looks 
back now through the vista of a long, busy life has ever doubted that sucb 
happy occasions fully repaid for all they cost in time and trouble and work. 

"When the supper was finally ended and there had been time to clear away 
the table and other removable furniture, the room was prepared for a dance. 
One or more fiddlers had been secured for the occasion and the rest of the 
evening was given over to dancing and all kinds of games and amusements, in 
not a few of which the old folks joined as heartily as the young. 

Finally somewhere in the neighborhood of midnight the party "broke up" 
and the crowd soon dispersed. The boys took the girls home 'on behind' on 
horseback, or walked with them if the distance was not too great." 

No one has ever presented a more beautiful or more realistic picture of 
the old-time husking party than is to be found in Whittier's poem "The Husk- 
ers." We know our readers have all been familiar with this little poem since 
their earliest school days, but it so charmingly describes the scene we have 

202 



just been trying to picture that we reproduce it here in the hope that some who 
have read it hundreds of times will see in it new beauty, as we have done, from 
reading it in this connection: 

"THE HUSKERS." 

It was late in mild October, and the long autumnal rain 
Had left the summer harvest-fields all green with grass again; 
The first sharp frosts had fallen, leaving all the woodlands gay 
With the hues of summer's rainbow, or the meadow flowers of May. 

Through a thin, dry mist, that morning, the sun rose broad and red; 

At first a rayless disk of fire, he brightened as he sped; 

Yet, even his noontide glory fell chastened and subdued. 

On the corn-fields and the orchards, and softly-pictured wood. 

And all that quiet afternoon, slow sloping to the night. 
He wove with golden shuttle the haze with yellow light; 
Slanting through the painted beeches, he glorified the hill; 
And, beneath it, pond and meadow lay brighter, greener still. 

And shouting boys in woodland haunts caught glimpses of that sky. 
Flecked by the many-tinted leaves and laughed, they knew not why; 
And school-girls, gay with aster-flowers, beside the meadow brooks. 
Mingled the glow of autumn with the sunshine of sweet looks. 

From spire and barn, looked westerly the patient weather-cocks; 
But even the birches on the hill stood motionless as rocks. 
No sound was in the woodlands, save the squirrel's dropping shell, 
And the yellow leaves among the boughs low rustling as they fell. 

The summer grains were harvested; the stubble-fields lay dry. 
Where June winds rolled, in light and shade, the pale-green waves of rye; 
But still, on gentle hill-slopes, in valleys fringed with wood. 
Ungathered, bleaching in the sun, the heavy corn crop stood. 

Bent low, by autumn's wind and rain, through husks that dry and sere, 
Unfolded from their ripened charge, shone out the yellow ear; 
Beneath, the turnip lay concealed, in many a verdant fold. 
And glistened in the slanting light the pumpkin's sphere of gold. 

There wrought the busy harvesters; and many a creaking wain 
Bore slowly to the long barn-floor its load of husk and grain; 
Till broad and red, as when he rose, the sun sank down at last, 
And like a merry guest's farewell, the day in brightness passed. 

203 



And lo! as through the western pines, on meadow, stream and pond, 
Flamed the red radiance of a sky, set all a-fire beyond, 
Slowly o'er the eastern sea bluffs a milder glory shone. 
And the sunset and the moonrise were mingled into one. 

As thus into the quiet night the twilight lapsed away, 
And deeper in the bright'ning moon the tranquil shadows lay; 
From many a brown old farm-house, and hamlet without name. 
Their milking and their home-tasks done, the merry buskers came. 

Swung o'er the heaped-up harvest, from pitchforks in the mow, 

Shone dimly down the lanterns on the pleasant scene below; 

The growing pile of husks behind, the golden ears before, 

And laughing eyes and busy hands and brown cheeks glimmering o'er. 

Half hidden in a quiet nook, serene of look and heart. 

Talking their old times over, the old men sat apart; 

While up and down the unhusked pile, or nestling in its shade, 

At hide-and-seek, with laugh and shout, the happy children played. 

Urged by the good host's daughter, a maiden young and fair, 
Lifting to light her sweet blue eyes and pride of soft brown hair, 
The master of the village school, sleek of hair and smooth of tongue. 
To the quaint tune of some old psalm, a husking-ballad sung. 




204 



OLD-TIME THRASHING. 

Thrashing grain by machinery, is, of course, a method of comparatively re- 
cent years. The evolution of the modern steam thrasher from the crude 
"ground thrasher" to the more effective horse power machine, and on to the 
present self-feeding perfected and powerful machine drawn about the country 
by its own traction engine, is an interesting bit of history that we shall not take 
time to narrate at present. It has practically all come about in a single life- 
time. In the earlier days of our grandfathers, the flail, or as it used to be called 
sometimes, the "bread-pole," was the thrashing machine in general use, and the 
grain was ail beaten out by hand. Most of our readers, perhaps, are familiar 
with this very simple implement. It consisted of two parts — a "staff," or handle, 
some six feet long, to which was attached by strong leather strings the "supple" 
some two and a half or three feet long. By means of the swinging motion of 
the staff the "supple" was made to beat heavily upon the grain-laden sheaves 
spread out upon the "thrashing floor," thus liberating the grain from the straw 
by a comparatively slow and laborious process. 

After the corn had been husked and stored away in the autumn, thrashing 
with the flail was next in order. This was such a long drawn-out and tiresome 
job that it was usually the rule to keep the larger boys at home from school 
until it was finished. Our older friends tell us that in their childhood days one 
of the most familiar sounds was that of the loud and regular strokes of the 
flail heard from many an old barn floor while on the way to school. 

It commenced, too with the earliest dawn and was a work that lazy men 
cr boys could not well shirk, no matter whether it was the missing of one, or 
two, or three good strokes, for their cessation would be quickly noticed even in 
the inner most recesses of the house. 

The instrument itself was thus a complete tell-tale, and the straw would 
show how thoroughly the work was done. All the oats, wheat and rye were 
thrashed by this method, and sometimes beans and buckwheat were also 
thrashed in the same manner. 

It was a task of beat, beat, beat on the spread-out grain on the thrashing 
floor and how desperately tough it was on damp or rainy days, how hard to 
separate the grain from the husky and bearded home in which it had been born, 
nurtured and protected into maturity. 

The thrasher would change his position this way and that, trying to find 
the easiest position. Blows and blows alone could do it. The same monotonous 
beat from morning until night for five or six weeks, requiring, perhaps, before 
the task was fully completed, not less than 100,000 strokes. If our young men 
on the farms to-day were required to do this preparatory to getting their win- 
ter's schooling they could perhaps the more readily realize how that phrase 
"the dead beat" may have originated. 

The following story will illustrate the old-time spirit of rivalry that existed 
in many kinds of farm work. 

A celebrated thrasher whom we shall name "A" had quite a reputation 

205 



throughout the whole community for his ability with the flail. A farmer living 
in the neighborhood hearing of this concluded to engage "A" on a trial. At 
early dawn on the designated day "A" was on hand with his flail to thrash out 
a quantity of oats for market. 

Soon two dozen sheaves from the mow overhead were laid for a "flooring," 
and the thrashers commencing with alternate beating as they stood opposite 
each other. 

The farmer gave vigorous strokes that at times sent the grain flying in vol- 
leys of several yards around, while "A" kept up a peculiar switching manner 
that made less noise. 

After being engaged for an hour or more the farmer requested that "A" 
should lay on harder and the grain would come out faster and easier, as he 
might notice by his own method. Thus the thrashing continued until noon, the 
farmer endeavoring to infuse into "A" by word and action that he should lay 
on heavier to facilitate the labor. 

The latter, however, was good natured and did not appear to take offense or 
mind his instructions and adhered to his accustomed manner, which from experi- 
ence he had found to be the most effective. 

The farmer all this while was busily thinking or devising how he could im- 
prove the matter, and finally conceived a plan when the grain was put to one 
side and the floor cleared at dinner time. 

When they returned the farmer said: " 'A,' you will now thrash your floor- 
ing at that end of the barn, and I will thrash mine here, and we will be likely to 
know the better how we get along." 

Seeing into the matter at once "A" good humoredly replied: "That will be 
excellent, it is a wonder you did not think of it sooner." 

In a short time "A" had his flooring thrashed, his straw bound up and the 
grain put aside, when he took the large bundle of straw and sat down on it look- 
ing on while the other man worked away, being about half through. 

Although regarded as a laborer he knew he had just as good a right to 
assert his proper dignity or independence as any other man, and for an example 
he would do it now in the face of the avericious farmer who was also regarded 
as one of the richest men in the community. 

"I wish," said "A," "you would hurry and get done with that so that we 
can commence another flooring." Down heavier and quicker came the flail of 
the farmer. The grain flew higher and further around in showers, but no use. 
In spite of his robustness with every flooring was the aforesaid repeated and 
thus was "A" enabled through his skill to most provokingly taunt and worry 
his employer as he sat nearly half that afternoon on the straw giving the farmer 
an instructive lesson. 

There was no question as to the method of "A." On that night the farmer 
slept a more wearied man after what may have seemed to him one of the long- 
est afternoons of his life. 

"A" had now the satisfaction of having fully maintained his reputation, and. 
of course, he never lacked in this kind of labor. 

20b 



FLAX. 

In the days of which we write — the days of our grandparents — the raising 
of flax was as essential a part of the farmer's duties as the raising of corn and 
wheat, for while the latter were necessary for food, the former was just as 
necessary for wearing apparel, bed and table linen. So completely has this 
absolute necessity of farm life, this once every-day industry of almost every 
home and fireside throughout the land disappeared in the last forty or fifty 
years, that most of those persons born since that time have never seen a field 
of flax, and know practically nothing of the process of preparing it and making 
it into clothing, except what they have heard from time to time, in the con- 
versational references of their parents or grandparents, hence we have thought 
worth while, as a matter of permanent interest, both to the present and to com- 
ing generations, to briefly describe the 

FLAX INDUSTRIES OF THE "OLDEN TIME." 

The ground was plowed and harrowed in the early spring, the same as for 
corn or oats, and the flax seed was sown "broad-cast" as soon as the weather 
and soil would permit. Some families always tried to sow their flax on Good 
Friday. 

It grew rather easily, was a fairly sure crop; in growth reached a height 
and size somewhat like the timothy grass of the present day, the individual 
stalks being straight and smooth to the height of twenty-four to thirty-six 
inches and about the thickness of a broom splint, or rather heavy "timothy" 
stalk, and branched somewhat at the top into several little stemlets, each hold- 
ing a small somewhat spherical seed pod when near maturity. The blossom 
was light blue or purple, and a field of growing flax is said to have been a 
most beautiful sight when in full bloom. (Fig. 3, page 214.) 

The harvesting was done about the time of late oats harvest, or just a little 
later usually than the regular grain harvest, and "flax-pulling" was by no means 
the pleasantest and easiest part of the old-time harvest. 

Here, as indeed in all the harvest, the women often helped the men, and 
many a night, after a hard day's work at pulling flax, the aching, half-broken 
backs of our grandfathers could have been duplicated in the farmhouse kit>chen 
or beside the trundle bed and cradle, had not our patient, long-suffering grand- 
mothers been made of the stuff that "murmurs not nor complains." 

Flax pulling, of course, had to be done entirely by hand. As much of the 
flax as could be advantageously grasped with the two hands was seized and 
pulled from the ground, root and all, as a rule not much of the soil clinging 
to the roots, for they were small and ran straight down with but few branch 
rootlets. If necessary the clinging soil was quickly shaken off and the hand- 
fuls of flax were placed side by side on the ground. 

207 



This was allowed to "cure," or dry, for a day or two in the sun, and then 
was bound into small sheaves and set up in shocks, or ricks, and later hauled 
to the barn. 

Next came the threshing out of the seed, which was sometimes done soon 
after the hauling in, and sometimes left until the sharp frosty weather of the 
fall. 

The process of threshing differed somewhat from the threshing of grain. 
All that was used in the way of machinery was an open storebox or barrel, 
with a piece of plank or flat stone across its top in such a way that the tops 




I'.KJ-.AKINC, I'l.AX. 



HACKIJXC. I'l.AX. 



of the small flax bundles could be struck sharply over this obstruction, causing 
the seed to rattle out into the open barrel. 

Having thus freed the flax irom seed, the next essential step before it could 
be made use of was the "bleaching," or rotting, of the woody fibre of the flax 
stalks. This was done by again spreading the flax out in a thin layer on the 
ground, where it was left for weeks at a time, exposed to all kinds of weather. 
Sometimes this was done in the late fall and early winter, so as to be ready 

2()H 



or the winter spinning, and sometimes it was not "bleached" until the fol- 
owing spring and used for summer spinning. 

The flax was left thus exposed upon the ground until its stalky interior was 
horoughly deadened and easily broken, then it was again gathered into sheaves 
)r bundles and taken back to the barn, where it was now ready for the process 
)f "breaking." 

Here a somewhat more formidable machine was brought into use, the "flax- 
)reak" (sec illustration). This rather crude home-made device, which was 
)nce as familiar a sight on every farm as a plow or a hand rake, is now so well- 
ligh extinct as to make the chance one that may be found after long search 
I real curiosity to those of the present generation. 

We were fortunate enough to discover and resurrect one of these time- 
lonored machines, which we now have in our possession, and which we here 
eproduce on paper for your inspection and for your instruction in the method 
)f its use. 

The veteran "breaker" who is kindly demonstrating the action of the ma- 
:hine was not fortunate enough to have any flax with which to demonstrate, 
3ut you can readily see by the bunch of straw he is holding just how the flax 
vas broken by placing it on the lower set of sharpened rails and striking it 
epeatedly and more or less rapidly with the upper set as shown in the cut. 

This was also hard and tiresome work, and consumed considerable time. 
in this, as in the "scutching," which comes later, there used to be professional 
3r expert workmen who made a business of going about the country at the 
Droper seasons to do this work — sort of itinerant specialists, who went from 
)lace to place, working by the day or by the job according as they were hired. 

In this connection our veteran friend in the picture, who is now (August, 
1907) nearly ninety years old, and who was for many years a neighbor and 
■riend of Peter Galley, related to us a little "illustrated story" which Mr. Galley 
ased to tell him, and which, with the old man's gestures and mimicking voice, 
was quite amusing. Mr. Galley, it seems, had had some trouble to get flax- 
breakers to do much good when employed by the day — they worked entirely 

:oo slow, for it went something like this: "B — y t — h — 8 d — a — y, b y 

: h e d a y." (Illustrated in very slow, drawling sing-song tones 

is he slowly raised and lowered the "break.") 

He therefore concluded he could get more work done if he would pay by 
:he job, and after this, he said, the tune changed entirely, and sounded like 
this: "By the job; by the job; by the job, job, job; by the job; by the job; by 
the job, job, job," suiting the quick, rapid strokes on the machine to the double 
3uick time of the rapidly uttered words. 



Having thoroughly broken the flax, there remained the process of separat- 
ing the more or less finely broken fragments of the inner stalk from the long, 
string-like fibres of the bark or outer layers. This was done by scutching and 
hickling it. 

209 



Scutching flax, while not such hard work, required more skill than had, 
been demanded by the previous steps in the process of preparation. The equip- 
ment in the way of implements for this part of the work consisted of a "scutch- 
ing blcck" and a "scutching knife" — very simple little tools. 

The "scutching block" was made by nailing a small board to the upright 
end of a piece of plank, or block of wood, some three or four feet long in such 
a way that the broken Rax could be held in one hand and allowed to hang over 
the edge cf the board while with the other hand tl:e broken stems, or "shives" 
as they were called, were beaten out from among the stringy fibres by a suc- 
cession of dexterous blows with the so-called "scutching-knife," which was not 
a knife, but a sort of wooden broad sword, usually made of hickory, about two 
feet Icng, rounded down for a handhold at one end, and a broad sword-like 
shape the rest of the way. (Fig. 5, page2i4. ) 

After beating out the "shives" as thoroughly as possible in this manner, it 
is ready for the hackles. These are two in number — a coarse and a fine. Hack- 
Img is practically a course of combing. The "hackle" consists of a small board 
filled with pointed steel spikes some three or four inches long, the finer one of 
course having a larger number of spikes smaller and closer together. This 
steel comb is fastened to a block, or small trussel (see cut), and the flax is 
dragged through it repeatedly until the coarser parts are all combed out, and 
the light, silky fibres are left clean and straight and ready for spinning. 

As will be gathered from the above description, there were at least two 
grades of tow by the time it came to the spinners — the "scutchin' tow" and the 
fine, or "linen tow." The first of these was rough material that resulted from 
the first hackling, and was spun into coarse thread for various purposes, such 
as the making of grain bags and heavy clothing for every-day wear; or after 
the boat building industries of the Yough grew up, there was demand for all 
the "scutchin' tow" that could be spared in this particular region for "calking" 
the boats. 

The finer qualities of the tow were spun on the small spinning wheels 
into various grades of linen yarn, or thread, according to the use to which it 
was to be applied. 

Spinning was the "fine art" of the flax industries, perhaps even more so 
than the weaving which followed it. Almost any one of ordinary handiness 
could learn to spin, but it required a person of unusual dexterity and skill, one 
with quick, nimble fingers, good eyesight and patient endurance to be a good 
spinner, hence the women, as a rule, were the spinners, and not all the female 
members of the family were equally skillful in the use of the wheel. Certain 
ones usually developed a special talent, or liking, for this part of the work and 
became the spinners in the family or neighborhood. Perhaps the mother in 
dividing up the household duties among her daughters chose the one or two 
she thought best suited for the work, and taught these to spin. 



210 



WOOL WORKING. 

Sheep were comparatively easily raised, except for the attacks of wild ani- 
ls in the very early days, and of dogs in later years. This latter trouble — 

raids of sheep-killing dogs — has been a menace to sheep raising, and is even 
the present days. 

Just why otherwise harmless and valuable farm dogs should suddenly de- 
op into a wolf-like slaughterer of dozens of these innocent and defenseless 
m.als in a single night has always seemed to us a little difficult to explain. 
t such is the case, and many a fine farm dog has been regretfully killed, 
ler on suspicion or direct evidence, the morning after a neighbor's flock was 
3ed and depopulated of as many perhaps as 15 to 30 or more of its numbers, 
r was it the lambs only that were slaughtered in this way, for the older and 
)icest sheep of the flock were just as likely to fall. 

Sometimes these slaughters occurred before the season's crop of wool had 
:n taken, and then the dead animals had to be shorn where they were found 
the fields, for the fleece was entirely too valuable to be lost. 

Occassionally it happened that one or two of these dead wool-bearers were 
: found for several days, possibly a week or so later, having been chased 
D some adjoining field or to a distant or out-of-the-way part of the pasture, 
ne of you, we know, will recall very distinctly the anything but pleasant task 
I had in recovering such a fleece. No shears were needed in these cases; 

process of decomposition had gone just far enough to render the use of 
ars unnecessary. All that was requisite was a stout stomach and the ability 
hold the nose and "pull wool." 

One of the early summer jobs that was often the occasion for a little 
ersion in your boyhood days was "sheep-washing time," for once a year the 
:k was treated to a plunge bath that was supposed to cleanse and purify the 
;ce before it was shorn. We say supposed to do so, for we never could 
te understand how the submerging of the struggling animal a few minutes 
leath the water of the river some miles away, or the creek, or a dam in the 
, accompanied by a more or less honest eff'ort to rub the fleece with the 
ids, could do a great deal toward cleansing the accumulated grease and dirt 
m the wool. Especially did this look useless to us when, as often happened, 

flock had to be driven home after this annual soaking for several miles 
ng the dusty road and kept in none too clean a place until the shearing was 
le. 

However, there must have been some practical good derived and perhaps it 
; the abuse of the custom — the "failure in technique," as we say in these 
;ntific days— that we condemned rather than the principle involved. 

We have suggested above that "sheep-washing" was often the occasion for 

211 



a little diversion from the monotony of every-day farm work. This came about 
from two or three reasons. 

In the first place, it usually meant a day, more or less, according to the size 
of the flock, away from home — out of the ordinary. It meant somewhat of a 
frolic, for, being a pretty big job, several helpers had to go along. 

If the washing place was some miles away, help was needed to get the 
flock to the place, and, if perchance, you were fortunate enough to be able to 
construct a washing pool of sufficient size in some stream on your own farm, 
you still needed some extra help, for it would keep one or two men too long in 
the cold water; besides, it was more convenient to have some two or three 
persons out of the water to manipulate the flocks, corrall the sheep, unwashed 
and washed, into their proper pens, and conduct them to and from the water, 
so that the washer would not have to come out so often. This extra help, of 
course conduced to the excitement and sociability of the occasion, and just 
here the writer is reminded of another factor that sometimes entered into the 
levity and hilarity of the old-fashioned sheep-washing frolics. The water being 
cold, or the men being afraid of so much water on the outside, without some 
counteracting agency within, it was deemed a necessity to provide the crowd 
with a jug or bottle, the contents of which could be called upon in emergency 
or when some one felt that his "rheumatiz" would not stand the chilling, etc. 

The writer has a very vivid recollection of one of these events that oc- 
curred in his early boyhood, in which he more or less innocently played a part, 
that, for a time at least, created a panic among the sheep-washers and threat- 
ened dire disaster to the boy. 

It happened in this way: Not far from where the boy was at that time 
living, there was a good sized run in which in the early spring a sheep-washing 
dam had been built. 

One day a neighboring farmer brought his flocks to be washed. There 
were several men in the party, including a well-known local preacher, a man 
of giant frame, tall and muscular, making him on such occasions a valuable 
help, for wrestling with a large frightened "bell-weather" in the cold water 
was not an easy task for a puny man. The party had not neglected to pro- 
vide the usual antidote against rheumatism and "colds," and this the boy, in play- 
ing about in an adjoining field, had noticed was being rather liberally used. He 
also noticed as the forenoon wore on that the men appeared to be enjoying 
the work immensely, even the preacher and one or two of his pillars in the 
church seemed to be a great deal happier than he had ever seen them up at 
the little old meeting house where he had sometimes gone to "preaching." After 
a while one flock of sheep was finished, and all hands turned out to take these 
away and bring another lot from a field nearby. 

This was the boy's opportunity. He quickly and quietly stole down to the 
scene of operations, where he found the unusually large medicine bottle, the 
popularity of which had already aroused his curiosity and suspicion. 

Just why he should have been possessed of such a wicked thought with a 

212 



preacher so near he does not to this day know, but this wicked thought 
prompted him to carefully transfer the big bottle and its remaining contents 
from its seat of honor to a very humble and secluded spot beneath the bottom 
rail of the old worn fence not far away. Then he left that immediately locality, 
concluding that it would be safer not to play too near the water. 

From an adjoining hillside he presently saw the shepherds returning with 
their flocks, the preacher naturally leading the way, as all good preachers 
should, apparently anxious to get back to the water, or something. 

Just why he should have tarried on the brink of the pond and looked about 
him in such doubtful manner as if afraid of the water was something hard to 
explain of a Baptist minister. Presently all hands were seen to be in the same 
state of procrastinating doubt and disbelief, and the boy from the hillside could 
iee that something was decidedly wrong and that the sheep-washing was being 
woefully neglected. 

The men seemed excited and cast frequent glances toward the hillside, and 
the boy decided he would hurry home for fear it might storm. The preacher 
and his faithful band appeared to misinterpret this action, for they ran toward 
the boy, calling and even throwing stone after him. He did not have time then 
to wait to see what the men wanted, but the next day his uncle, with whom he 
was staying, sought an interview with the boy and with ill-concealed effort to 
appear serious proceeded to reprimand him for disturbing the things while the 
men were out after sheep. 

That big bottle may be buried beneath the old fence rail yet, nobody knows, 
but if it ever does have a resurrection it will be able to tell how at least one 
sheep-washing suddenly changed from "wet" to "dry." 

Sheep-washing over, and warm weather having apparently come to stay, 
"sheep shearing" was next in order. 

What a back-breaking job this was, especially with those old-fashioned 
short-wooled, wrinkle-covered sheep. Of course, if you had the long-wooled 
variety it was not so hard. The process of taking the fleece was usually done 
on the old barn floor, which was cleared of vehicles and swept clean. Here 
again many hands made shorter work. Neighbor helped neighbor, and the 
man that could shear the largest number of sheep in a day was much sought 
after, and there was often great pride in contesting for and holding the sheep 
shearing championship for the neighborhood. 

It was not merely a matter of who could shear a sheep the quickest, but 
who could do it in the shortest space of time and leave the fleece whole and in 
best condition with the fewest "nicks" on the animal's hide, for it was hard to 
use those peculiar big shears rapidly without bloodshead, on account of the 
wrinkly hide, and the struggles of the frightened animal, which had to be held 
down on the floor by the shearer while he worked. 

If skillfully removed, the fleece lay on the floor at the completion of the 
job with its inner and whiter side up, almost wholly in one blanket-like piece,. 

1^ Continued on page 216.) 
213 




3. 
4. 

ij. 
(\. 
1 . 

H. 

;». 
1(1. 

1 1. 



OLD-Tl.ME REMINDERS. (From Autlmr's Collection.) 
Grandmother's spinning wheel. 
T(j\v, on the "rock" ready for spinning. 
Bundle of Hax, nnhroken, raised time of civil war. 
"Hank" of flax j^arn as si)nn on wlieel. 
Pair of "scutchin' knives," for scntcliing the liroken flax. 
I'iiir of hackles, coarse and liiu'. 
Pair of shuttles from old liand loom. 
Wool t-ards. for carding wo(d 1)\- hand. 

Pair (jf very old -ickUs. \\'lu;il from wheatficld. Oolt_vsburg. 
Candle molds. 
Old-time lard lamp. 



214 



12. Brass caiullo >tiok. Once used in lij;!itin,t? Flatwoods Church. 

13. Old tin lantern. 

14. Old long ritle. Especially used in fish shooting. 

1."). Sliot pouch and powder JKirn for rille. Over lun years old. 

If). Old Powder Horns. ( )ne bears date of ITGll. 

17. Old wall coffee mill that used to call us to breakfast as a boJ^ 

18. Frow and mall for "riving" clap-boards and shingles. 

19. Home-made bread Ixisket. Made of straw and iiickory splits. 

20. Writer's tirst pair of boots. Red topped and copper toed. 

21. Grandmother's hoop-skirt. 




"REMNANTS OF THE PAST." 

The "Big Wheel" ^,L'sed especially in spinning wool.) 

The Reel. 



21. S 



ready to be folded and rolled and tied with the twine, which was either done 
by hand or by aid of the wool-tying table, which compressed it into the small- 
est roll and applied the twine. 

At first, just as in the making up of the fiax, it was all done by hand. A 
little later the carding-mill and the fulling-mill took off these rather difficult 
portions of the work of making homespun. 

Of these, the first greatly shortened the time between the taking of the 
fleece and the spinning and carding of the wool with the small hand "cards," 
such as the pair shown in Figure — , in sufficient quantities for the winter's 
weaving and knitting was a slow an tedious process, but in the earlier days 
of our grandmothers it was the only way; and then after all this had been done, 
the cleansing and carding of the wool into the "rolls," the spinning of these 
"rolls" (or little slender batches of the straightened out fibres of the wool, 
about 18 to 24 inches long, and as thick as one's finger) on the "big wheel" 
into yarn, the scouring and dyeing of this yarn, and the weaving it either alone 
into flannel, blankets, etc., or mixed with flax yarn into linsey — after all this, 
we say, before these webs of woven goods could be cut and made into bedding 
and garments, it had to be "fulled" or shrunk and thickened. 

In the time of most of those yet living to tell us of these things there were 
scattered here and there through the country fulling-mills, to which the people 
far and near took the product of the looms to have this final preparation be- 
fore dyeing and making it up. But there are those still living who remember 
hearing their parents tell of the "fuUing-bees" before the days of the labor- 
saving mills. 

As was the case in many of these old-time labors, if they could be made 
the occasion for inviting in the neighbors, young and old, so that a regular 
frolic could be made of it, not only were the tasks more quickly done, but the 
natural demand for sociability, fun and diversion from the hard work of every- 
day life was in a measure supplied. 

So, we are told, it was not an uncommon thing for the good housewife, on 
cutting her web of blanketing or winter cloth from her loom, to invite in the 
young folks of the neighborhood to full it for her. 

This "fulling party," or "kicking bee," as it was sometimes called, was such 
a crude and curious affair compared with the young folks' parties of to-day that 
a brief description of one will not be out of place. 

The floor of the largest room was cleared and cleaned and the goods to 
be fulled were thoroughly saturated with home-made soft soap and hot water 
and spread out in proper thickness in the centre of the room, surrounded by a 
row of closely placed seats. About dusk the guests began to arrive and pre- 
pare themselves for the fun, and work. Soon the seats were filled with some 
twenty or more hale and hearty "barefoot boys with cheeks of tan, with their 
merry whistled tunes and their upturned pantaloons," who grasped a strong 
rope extending around the circle and awaited the word "go." At the com- 
mand, forty or fifty stout feet struck the soft wet mass of cloth, and the "ma- 
chine" was running. 

216 



Quickly it got up speed, and on they went, jumping and thumping and 
banging and stamping with might and main, faster and faster, performing a 
veritable Indian war-dance, stopping now and then for a little rest, and to allow 
the web to be turned and refolded, or to add fresh soap and water from the 
huge kettle hanging on the crane in the great open fireplace nearby, and then 
^oing at it again with redoubled effort, kicking and whooping and yelling with 
the water splashing and the foaming soap suds flying far and near. 

This was great fun for the boys as well as for the girls, who watched on 
or helped add the soap and water, and who would occasionally give the merry 
jancers a shower-bath rather warmer than the law allowed, which would of 
:ourse bring forth loud exclamations and bowlings of vengeance against the 
girls. 

Sometimes a smart "fuller" in attempting to outshine his fellows by some 
Extra high kick or caper would lose his footing on the slippery floor and come 
down with a splash and ^ thud into the foaming suds, followed by the roaring 
laughter of the whole crowd. 

In an hour or two the work was done; the cloth was well thickened and 
ready to be quickly carried out, so that the well-washed floor could be mopped 
3ry and in a very few minutes the big table was in its place well filled with the 
best the house could afford, to which the faithful "kickers," now "clothed and 
m their right minds," came with ravenous appetites because of the evening's 
bard work and frolicking fun. 

After this feast, the table and chairs were again cleared from the room and 
all hands joined for the rest of the evening in games and dancing and all kinds 
Df fun. 

Ones "fulled" and washed and dried, the cloth was ready for the tailor. 
The old-time large family, which has almost as completely disappeared as some 
of these crude customs of which we speak, often had within itself the tailoress, 
the shoemaker, the weavers, the spinners; so that in many instances, as the 
family of eight to twelve children grew up, each trained to his or her particular 
part in the work, they were trained and equipped to produce all their own foot- 
wear, clothing, bedding and table linen, doing everything right at home, except, 
perhaps, the tanning of the hides for the shoe leather, and there was usually a 
tannery not far away. 

Where, perchance, the family did not have all its own trained artisans, the 
want was supplied either by taking that particular part of the work, as the 
shoemaking, for instance, to a neighbor who did have a shoemaker in thf; 
family, or by employing a journeyman shoemaker, who came and lived with 
the family until the year's footwear was all made up. 

The same with regard to the clothing. As we have mentioned above, after 
the cloth was "fulled" it was ready for the tailor, who, if he be one of these 
itinerant artists, came and lived with the family until all were measured, the 
goods cut and fit and sometimes finished ready to wear, although the sewing, 
which, of course, was all done by hand, was usually done by the girls after the 
tailor got it ready. 

217 



EXTRACTS FROM LETTERS FROM TWO CHARACTERISTIC OLD- 
TIME GIRLS. 

"The first day that I remember of being at school was when the teacher 
printed some of the letters of the alphabet that I could not remember on the 
palm of my hand with pen and ink, which almost broke my heart. I cried and 
cried, and finally one of the older girls washed them off and you may know 
how much she was to me after this. 

I think there was nothing very striking in connection with our school days, 
but they were interspersed with work days at home. 

I guess the most striking thing then was when we should happen to be 
standing at the head of the spelling class and had to take our places at the foot 
of a long class in consequence of being out of school for a day. You know in 
those days if a pupil was a good enough scholar and never missed class he 
could stand at the head for all time, but then it would be a proud time for us if 
we should happen to spell a word that the whole class would miss, and walk 
to the head of the class. I think likely we studied our lessons all the harder 
for having to stay out. 

You know there was only one boy old enough to work, and there were four 
girls of us, and when father would be short of help we would have to work in 
the fields, carrying sheaves, dropping corn, picking up apples, potatoes, etc.; then 
our household duties were many, so that I guess our education was a second- 
ary thing in our times. 

You know we had no graduating exercises in those days for us to look for- 
ward to in the common schools, and when it was considered that we had educa- 
tion enough we stopped going to school. I was but a little over sixteen when I 
stopped going. Then we had our sewing lessons and spinning lessons. We 
spun flax and wool, and then grandfather gave us his loom (such a nice one it 
was) and taught us how to weave, and we spun and wove the cloth for the men's 
wear and flannel for our common winter dresses, also blankets, sheets and very 
nice towels and table linen. 

You know grandfather was a very fine weaver, and he was so kind in teach- 
ing us how to weave. He was such a dear old man, you cannot speak his praises 
too highly. It always seemed like heaven to me to go to grandfather's home. 
But to go on with my story: We milked a large number of cows and fed 
calves and made lots of elegant butter (yon know we had such a fine place for 
keeping it) and sold it at six cents per pound. Then we raised a great many 
chickens (had to, for we had no meat market in those days) and sold the eggs 
at four cents a dozen in trade. Then we had a great deal of fruit of all kinds, 
and we spent weeks and weeks in getting it dried and ready for winter use. 

Oh, those were busy days, but they were happy days, and as I think of it 
now amidst all our many duties we had much time for recreation and pleasure 
in the company of our young associates. 

218 



I think we were just as happy then as the young folks now, but it was in 
an entirely different way. 

If we wished to go anywhere we either walked or went horseback. Our 
mail was delivered once a week at the Liberty Post Office by a boy on horse- 
back, and if I chanced to be in the town when he came he would ask me to 
take a ride with him on the same horse, and would bring me home. Wasn't 
that fine? 

Shoemakers would come to the house and make our shoes. The farmers 
cut their grain with the sickle. I remember what a wonder the introduction of 
the "cradle" was. I never saw a railroad train until 1852. We used to go to 
the neighbors to borrow fire if the fire should happen to go clear out, and the 
nearest neighbor lived about half a mile away. We had pine splits dipped in 
brimstone that if we would touch to the least spark of fire it would start a blaze, 
thus save us many trips for fire. 

The first friction match I ever saw cost 25 cents a block about an inch 
square. I remember the first spool of cotton that ever came into our house. 
I thought the spool such a wonderful thing that I begged mother to let me 
have it when it became empty. I suppose I remember it more distinctly from 
the fact that mother set me to sewing a sheet and I used the thread double in 
3rder to get the spool empty the sooner, and I remember that she gave me a 
severe reprimand, and ordered me to rip all that long seam out and sew it again. 
Vou can imagine how such a seam would look sewed by a ten-year-old girl 
with a double thread. By the time I got the spool I think likely it had lost 
some of its attraction. 

There is one thing in connection with our school days that I must speak 
Df. It almost makes me tremble now when I think of it how we used to crawl 
3n our hands and knees across the foot logs over Dickerson's Run when there 
vould be a freshet, and the water would be rushing and foaming underneath, so 
nuch so that we could not think of walking across. There was nothing but the 
)are log, and as I think of it now it seems so strange that nothing better was 
)rovided, and that no one was ever drowned in crossing at such times. 

When I was a girl I was troubled with asthma, or phthisic, as they called 
t then, and a man who came to our house one day, I suppose felt sympathetic 
or me, for he said to father: "You take that girl out to the woods and stand 
ler by a tree and bore a hole in the tree just above her heqd, and put as much 
)f her hair in the hole as you can. Then plug up the hole and cut the hair 
)ff, and when she grows above that hole her trouble will be all gone." It was 
lever tried, so I cannot vouch for it. Will give it to you for what it is worth. 
Where in the world did you find that old man that works the flax break? 
le must be a Rip Van Winkle sort of man. for the whole scene looks as if it 
night be under the r-pple trees near father's corn house where he kent his flax, 
ind the machine when not in use; and now for a companion piece you want 
he "scutcher" with his "scutching board" (a board nailed to a block to make 
t stand upright) in one hand, a bunch of flax thrown over the end of the board, 

219 



and in the other, a large wooden knife with which to "scutch" the shives out 
of the flax. 

The "heckle" also belongs to that group, but our mother usually did that 
part of the work, thinking she could do it so that the flax would spin better 
than when done by any one else. She would do that in the work shop at her 
leisure. She would first heckle off the coarse tow with the shives in it. The 
men would make use of that; then the fine tow for spinning was taken care of 
very carefully. Each handful of flax as she heckled it was twisted and folded 
once together, a knot tied in the end and a whole bunch put together and hung 
up where the mice could not get any of it; then we girls spun the tow and flax 
and made it into cloth for sheets, towels and table linen, and then we spread it 
en the grass and bleached it until it was very white, and then we used our 
needles and thimbles. 

The tow yarn was used for men's wear in the summer time for field and 
farm work. Mother would buy coton warp and then would color half and 
half of both the cotton and the tow what she called a "copperous" color — a 
bright orange. Then it was put in the loom — six threads of the copper and six 
of the white and we would put in the filling in the same way. This made some- 
thing that would never fade and was considered handsome. 

The general rule was to have a corn husking and quilting bee on the same 
afternoon; and then they danced in the evening, either on the main floor in the 
barn, or in the house as conditions demanded; but we were debarred any such 
pleasure as that at our house. Father thought dancing a very wicked thing, 
and I never saw a party-dance until after I was married and moved away." 

(Mrs. Anne Middleswarth) 



"In the fall of 1850 we had an applebutter boiling, and had all the neighbor 
boys and girls in to help us. It took until late at night to finish the boiling. 
We took turns, in couples, a boy and a girl at a time stirring while the rest 
played games in the yard, and father (who had been a widower for more than 
a year) seemed young and played with the rest. 

Anna and I thought he was too old to cut up with the young folks, and we 
felt rather mortified at his conduct. Some time after that I overheard him 
talking to another young widower and they both said they were lonely without 
a companion. 

The young widower asked father if he thought he could get me to be his 
wife. Father said he did not know; so in a short time I got a letter from him, 
asking if I would become his wife, and stating how nicely he and his former 
wife had gotten along, and what a nice home he had, and how many peach trees 
he had on his farm, etc. I wrote him that I was perfectly satisfied with my 
home, and not long after that he married another girl and made her a very good 
husband. A year or so after this father came home a litt'e late one evening 

220 



and found me having some company. A young man was calling upon me and 
we were sitting by the grate fire when father came in, and the young man said 
to him: "Peter, what keeps you out so late this evening?" Father replied: 
"The same that is keeping you out so late, I guess." 

Not long after that he told me he was going to be married and bring us a 
new mother. I then went to work and made his wedding shirt, stitched the 
pleats in the bosom like machine stitching as near as I could. 

On January 22d he married the widow Stauffer, sister of Jacob. Joseph and 
Peter Newmyer. They were married by James Darsie. There was snow on 
the ground, and Conrad Walker had taken father in his sleigh, and by noon he 
came back bringing the bride and groom. 

I had a fat turkey roasted and had some neighbors in to greet them. 

That evening my brothers got some neighbor boys to come, and they ser- 
enaded them with horns and tin pans. 

^' ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 

On November 5, 1854, Joseph Rist and I were married by James Darsie. 
We lived on a farm in the home neighborhood for five or six years, then in the 
spring of 1860 the farm was sold, and we started for what was then known only 
as "Pike's Peak." We took a boat at Pittsburg and went to St. Louis; from 
there by rail to St. Joe. Mo.; from there by stage to Brownville. Nebraska. 
where we loaded three wagons with provisions and cooking utensils, and trav- 
eled six hundred miles with ox-teams, landing at what is now Denver, about the 
middle of June, after forty days' travel from Brownville. 

This whole journey from the East was filled with many incidents and ad- 
ventures, and was completed only after a long series of hardships and discour- 
agements. There were a great many Indians on the plains, and we were in 
more or less fear of their raids on our stock, but they did not molest us, and all 
got off in pretty good shape from the upset and break-downs and other acci- 
dents. 

We found the town made up of a few little log shanties with tents stretched 
on top of them for roofs, and Indian squaws sitting around on the ground with 
papooses strapped on their backs. 

We now have a city with 200.000 inhabitants." 

(Mrs. Sarah Rist) 



221 



THE OLD HAND LOOM. 

Hand loom built by ^Peter Galley and used in his family until his death in 
365, since which time it has been in the hands of strangers who still use it for 
eaving rag carpet. This loom was discovered by mere chance while the writer 
■as hunting for the house in which Jacob Galley had conducted the weaving 
usiness mentioned elsewhere. 

We are sorry not to be able to present a better picture of this famous old 
ariosity, but it was with the greatest difficulty, and only after repeated efforts 
lat we secured any kind of photograph at all. While our little party, ranging 
I age from young boyhood to the white-haired grandparents of 90, in whose 
ossession we found the loom, were gathered about contemplating all this vet- 
ran survivor of a former age had seen and done, it appeared to begin to speak 
5 us and to tell us the story of its past, which the writer has endeavored to 
iterpret and put in verse, as 

THE OLD LOOM'S STORY. 

Come and hear now the story, ye gray-haired and young, 
Of one in whose glory no poet e'er sung. 
I'm the old family hand loom your forefather's knew, 
Come to bring from the past a brief message to you; 
Come to tell of the life and the times long ago 
And the wonderful changes a long life can show. 
For a round hundred years I've been working away. 
And have right now to ask you to hear what I say. 
You've grown old, some of you, and you justly take pride 
In recounting ycur years to the youth at your side; 
But though long the gray mantle of age you have worn, 
I was toiling to clothe you e'er yet you were born. 
Brush the dust from my shuttles, my cross-beams lay bare, 
For the hand marks of heroes are covered up there! 
Not the battle-scarred heroes of war's bloody fame, 
But the heroes of industry, pluck and good name. 
For the days when your stout-hearted forefathers wrought 
'Mid the hardships and struggles that fell to their lot. 
To reclaim this good land from its wilderness state, 
And establish here homesteads and industries grea<^. 
Were the days when stout hearts were as much in demand 
As were ever war's heroes on sea or the land. 
I was fashioned by hands just as brave and as true. 
In the battle of life as the world ever knew; 
Very humble, I know, 'mid that early day strife. 
Were those hcnest hard toilers who brought me to life, 
But the greatness of men is not measured alone. 
By the size of their names cut en tablets of stone, 

223 



:d 



re rrs 



i iir 3rt 



>i- 



-se 



01 f^ 



i-l- 



Sj^ 



Mr- 



i. - - -'-^ _- 



2B4 



L:k3 a sentry on guard in the edge of 7011 wood, 

inire to drive back the cid superstit ion and fear. 

While the "master" kept pay-scfaool tkiee moatbs m th.* 7*5 

^hat a strange locking sight wcnid that bouse be ::^r;v 
With its walls bmlt of logs, ronghly «-hinki»d ir. 

Lesving cracks here and there, -srhere the snci-is- ----- -g 

Added "light. cft:-t -e? =5 r.:; teicher ccr'f tt 
I ccnld tell cf the c-,.. tt-.; -at stert: — i; t: -iit 
And the trade-— arks he let: :r t :i ;- -_:iit rt fiTtf; 
Of the slab £e=t3 and desk i' i t ; : : _ - - t : - - : ;r. 
Of the gT;=t cpett £re-:=:e i: :::i 7 : - 
Where the 1:75 carre :: .-:: t t- :- 1 ; . : : :;; ;...- 
Clad in clcthes m£ de ft t — - 1 - 1 : • - 1 : 5 : : d — : - - 1 - ; : : j3 
Oh. a sight such as this :. : : -. in^e r: : tt 
And you'd gaze at that n-.-.. i£ :• : _ -:-=• s^irt i: — = ; 

Tliat your zr^-rdtHrtr:; --t - -; :i r :-; ^;-t :; 

Ard hovsr poor was t - 1 :-': ^ ':- t: - — t i^d 
In these hundreds c: -.t 7 ; -_ii-- ;,:_ -; i .e so! 
Not a steamship was t; r^ the great : :;;- ij. 
Not a raHrcid :r trt_eT in mT : :_-£rr ti; 

And I scarce reec reca— " -e- -„te nrst '.t -.- - :-£ 
But a few vears a^: a; a mere ttv was sz:^:rn; 

Men now talk •withcut wires, "r:.-: -'-f — ;r.i _. .s-tzr will! 
And the time-sav_ng h-arrest ne:- ;_:~ ;:? nr"— ' ttse: 
Daily papers that bring all the wcrld s latest news; 

And the ar: L^-: - r a:e ;: -- 1 r.i :a .; v i.r 
Anc tr. e seir:- ;": :~i: ■:;"■.; ; _■: tne ""^7 --' -— ^ -— " 
Ani :nr : ;;■ ; e :;: i.:;-:: ; - ; i 
Whit: -J ;y a: a itrea -a: ^:=s tr . itral' 
And content rtt ■^.:- :-.s vrn attertt: - ; ^v tr f.7 

You're in deep water new, - . - ; : ::? ;.: — ;--; 

And you're cr - --f :- - ._ ' "; — : - -t 

But before —a- r iirr 1 i r :: 1 :-: 
Youll sail rea:- te sea a- ; : _ - : a::.: 

.AH these wcncers Fve s^en. and a thrtrsand nmes — rrs. 



Sines your forefathers lived in the good days of yore. 
And without all of these, what a world it would be! 
But 'twas just such a world had a place here for me. 
And full well do I know, with the world moving on, 
This old loom must soon go where the past has all gone. 
I lament not the fact that my life-work is done. 
Neither wish myself back where that life-work begun; 
For I did what I could in the day that was mine. 
And my efforts, tho' crude, had a purpose divine. 
Every age plays its part; every hand-loom and man; 
What is crude at the start, slowly grows in God's plan. 
You may smile, if you will, at my looks crude and rough; 
If my part I fulfill, 'tis for me, quite enough; 
In this old world of yours, how we look counts for naught: 
'Tis our work thr.t endures when all else is forgot. 






L .¥ 



^>rr.^..vS^:, 






1. -ii. :i-' 



*"•■ 



"i.iKi-. .'\ si:.\TRv ox GUARD IN THI-; i<;d(;i<; ok vox wood." 

(Jc'fifc-rson School. l"r;mkliii Tuwnshii). Author's first teaching place.) 

22b 



SUGAR MAKING. 

Maple-sugar making used to be one of the most delightful events of the 
rm year. Like many other old-time practices, it has well nigh become a lost 
t. In sections of the country where maple sugar is yet occasionally made, 
lere is less picturesqucness now and more effort to attain cleanliness and 
ake gocd pure sugar. In the days of the early settlers, maple-sap was often 
xured by what they called "boxing" the trees; that is, by chopping a great 
:oove in the side of the trunk and hollowing it downward so that the sap 
ould collect in it. This method often proved fatal to the trees and had to be 
jandoned. Instead of this, sometimes a notch was cut in the trunk at a con- 
mient height and a semi-circle spout of some kind inserted. Beneath this 
)out was placed the old-time chopped-out sugar trough. At a later period, 
Dwever, the sap was obtained by boring a number of holes in the tree with 
1 auger in which sumac or large elder "spiles" were driven, and under which 
jckets were placed. 

The old-time boy was more concerned in sugar-making than any other 
ember of the family. As soon as winter began to relax its grip in March, he 
as out dipping into the maple trees with his jack-knife, and if the sweet ooze 
F the tree responded he was jubilant. Without delay he hastened to the house 
) tell the news, and his announcement was followed by no end of stir and ex- 
tement in getting ready for work in the sugar camp. 

The buckets, and ail kinds of vessels suitable for catching the sap were 
unted up and scalded out. A supply of new spouts or "spiles" were made; 
lually the snow was still on the ground, in places at least, and a sled was used 
) haul the necessary articles to the camp. We have various descriptions of the 
Id-timiC sugar-making j:cer.es from which we shall quote for the beneSt of our 
iaders. 

"The buckets were loaded on the ox-sled, together with three or four big 
[ack kettles, axes, augers, spouts, a gun and provisions — often enough to last 
)r several days. The Eun shone brightly into the leafless forest and the snow 
as sof'ening and settling. Spring was making ready to take possession of 
le woodlands. The robins were arriving, the squirrels venturing out, and the 
■ows were beginning to call with their accustomed heartiness. 

"Arriving at the 'camp' some of the men set out at once to do the 'tapping,* 
id soon on all sides the patter of falling drops mingled with the shouts and 
lughter, and the sound of the axe echoing far and wide. 

"Years before a rough shanty had been made in the sugar orchard, and 
lis was now covered afresh with boughs and put in order. Sufficient space 
efore the door to serve for a boil'ng place was cleared of snow. Two heavy 
)gs were here rolled nearly together, and a fire was built between them. A 
tout fork was set up at each end, and a long green pole was laid from fork to 
Drk. 

221 




"On this pole was hung the big kettles, possibly as many as five in all. 

"The great fire was kept up night and day as long as the sap run lasted. 
Somebody was always cutting wood to feed it, and somebody else was busy 
most of the time sap gathering. One man had to give his entire attention to 
the boiling. He had to keep the kettles replenished, and he had to see that 
they did not boil over. This he prevented by dipping into the threatening tur- 
bulence a piece of fat pork tied to a stick. 

"The boy helped enthusiastically at all these tasks, and frequently he had a 
little boiling place of his own with a small kett'e and a fire ell to himself. 

"He boiled his sap down as rapidly as possible, and wss n:t at all par- 
ticular about chips, scum or ashes. 

"He was also apt to burn his sugar; but if he could manufacture enough 
syrup to make a little sugary wax on the snow, or could scrape a little sugar 
from the bottom of the kettle with his wooden paddle he was happy. He pre- 
ferred the wax to anything else, and, in truth, the thick, hot syrup when dripped 
on the snow, did congeal into a delicious substance. Eating it was a long 
drawn out pleasure, for it dissolved very slowly. 

"Occasionally the sugar makers boiled eggs in the hot sap or roasted po- 
tatoes in the ash^s. One or two perscns stayed in the bough shanty to keep 
the fire going all night. 

"A run never lasted more thsn three or four days. By that time there 
was generally such a change in the weather — either too warm or too cold — as 
to stop the flow. There was then nothing to do but wait for a fresh start. 
The first 'run' was always the greatest in amount and the sweetest; there was 
always a purity and delicacy of flavor about the sugar m.ade from it that far 
surpassed any subsequent yield. 

"The liquid as it thickened was dipped from one kettle to another along the 
line, and in the end kettle it was reduced to syrup. Then the syrup was taken 
out to cool and settle until enough had been made to 'sugar off.' " 

228 



This final result was obtained simply by boiling (he syrup until it cryital- 
;d. The sugar (?) was the climax of the woodland industry, and was done only 
ce in two or three days. Often it was made the occasion of an evening's 
3!ic at the camp. The neighbors were invited, the pretty girls came and 
ere was laughter and song and m.erry vciccs, and everyone ate as much sugar 
he could. The trees around showed distinctly in the glare of the fire, which 
hted up also the bough shanty, the hogshead, the buckets and the group of 
rsons around the kettles. Not only did the sweets delight the palate, but the 
uation appealed strongly to the imagination. 

At length the sap run cf the season had been boiled down, the camp among 
e maples was deserted, the fire which had be-.n burning its incense to the 
ities cf spring was extinguished and silence again reigned in the forest. 

Another cf cur old-time sugar-making friends tells us: 

"It required some labor and expense to equip a 'camp' for sugar making, 
t once furnished the material lasted for many years. 

"The necessary equipment consisted cf furnace, kettles, sugar troughs, 
iles, sled, water barrel, funnel, buckets, etc. 

"At the end of the sugar season these would be safs'y housed to remain 
til the next year. As soon as the icy earth began giving way to mild sun- 
iny days in the latler part of the winter, it was considered by the sugar maker 
the announcement of the near approach of sugar weather. At such times 
like indications the sugar troughs would be taken from the place of storage 
d distributed among the trees, the better trees getting the larger troughs, 
le water barrel underwent inspection, the funnel was refitted, the sled was 
paired, the pile of dry wood increased, tubs and buckets were soaked, short- 
e of spiles and sugar troughs was made good, furnace and kettles were cleaned 
d everything was made ready for the work. 

"After this, the first clear frosty morning with the prospect of a thawing 
y, a man wouM be seen with an auger passing rapidly from tree to tree, 
3sely followed by another one with a basket and hatchet, who drove the spiles 
d set the troughs as fast as the one with the auger made the holes. 

"In a short tim.e the surrounding fcrest seemed sparkling with the beauties 
the rainbow and echoing the m.uric cf falling waer, each tree dripping, drip- 
ig with the rapidity suggestive of a race and W3ger held by Nature for the 
,e that first filled the assigned trough wi:h sparkling gems. 

"A 'run' of sugar water was dependent upon frosty night and warmer days, 
d when a number of consecutive days and nights remained above or below 
;ezing, the sugar water would cease to flow, often making it necessary to 
move the spiles and freshen the auger hole at the next 'run' to insure the 
tural ability of the tree. 

"The sugar manufactured in those days was made from the black maple, or 

gar tree. This tree was very productive. In an ordinary season it would 

n ten or twelve gallons in twenty-four hours, and during the season average 

ough for ten to fifteen pounds of sugar. The better trees have been known 

produce over fifty pounds each in an ordinary season. 

229 



"The sugar maker knew quite well the kind of days he could obtain a run 
of sugar water, and for that purpose one or more holes were bored into the 
tree three to five inches deep and the spiles driven in to conduct the fluid into 
the sugar trough. The spiles were made from sections of elder or sumac, eight 
or ten inches in length, shaved down to the pith from three inches of one end, 
which formed the shoulder, made tapering to fit into the auger hole, which was 
usually three-quarters of an inch in diameter. The pith in the shoulder and 
body of the spile was removed so as to form a channel for the water to flow 
through. 

"The sugar trough was a short trough two to four feet long, made of some 
light wood as the white walnut, and was carefully charred on the inside to pre- 
vent the injury of the delicate flavor of the sugar. Many persons familiar with 
higher mathematics and languages named in the curriculum of Yale or Har- 
vard, as well as words and phases used in athletic games and the manly art of 
self-defense, would be turned down if asked to describe or name the uses of 
many very simple things to the pioneers of three score and ten years ago." 

No doubt, there are many of our readers who never saw the headquarters 
of one of these primitive "sugar camps" with its row of four or five kettles 
placed over a roughly built stone furnace, under an open shed, and near the 
kettles under this shed a hogshead or other reservoir to hold the excess of 
water gathered during the day for night boiling; the sled and mounted barrel 
with a sugar trough funnel; the sugar house near the furnace with its slab 
benches, gourd dippers and other primitive articles used in the manufacture of 
sugar. 

This was the temporary residence of those running the camp, or the "sugar- 
house," the door occasionally showed a want of confidence by being ornamented 
by a heavy padlock and chain. This little building entertained many a jolly 
crowd. 

It was the manufacturer's office, storeroom, parlor and bed room and res- 
taurant. It was always a pleasant place to spend an evening, and still more, a 
delightfully sweet place on "stirring off" days, for then was the time to dip and 
cool the wooden paddle, and taste again and again the charming sweetness of 
maple sugar in its native purity; but in less than a century sugar trees, sugar 
troughs and pioneer sugar making had been classed with things of the past, 
scarcely known by the many and remembered but by a few. 

When it is said, "In infancy he was rocked in a sugar trough," the lan- 
guage, to many, is as figurative, hypothetical and meaningless as "the lullaby 
upon the tree-tops." Many of the younger generations never saw this pioneer 
cradle. The ordinary use of the sugar trough was to catch and hold the sweet 
water as it dripped from the spile, but under certain circumstances good speci- 
ized. The sugar was the climax of the woodland industry, and was done only 
ing a small somewhat spherical seed pod when near maturity. (Fig. 3, page — ) 
The blossom was light blue or purple, and a field of growing flax is said to 
mens were devoted to other purposes, and eminent lawyers, doctors, statesmen 
and divines have proudly referred to their cradling days as those having been 
well spent in the pioneer environment of a sugar trough. 



i 



THE "SPELLING BEE" 

in the old school house at one time had quite a place in the hearts of the young 
people. In certain neighborhoods and communities this now almost forgotten 
social and educational event was so enthusiastically maintained year after year 
that a generation of spellers grew up who had so completely mastered the 
Drthography of the English language that a misspelled word was so unusual as 
Lo attract the attention of the whole community. 

"Spelling matches" were conducted once a week in many of the local 
schools. These were usually held on Friday afternoons. The whole school 
practically would be turned into a huge spelling class. Two of the best spellers 
in the school would be named as captains, and they would take opposite sides 
Df the house, and "choose up" until all who were old enough would be in time 
ready for the contest. Then the teacher would take up the old Osgood's Spell- 
ing Book, or indeed several books, and even the dictionary was often used for 
this purpose, and beginning at the head of one of the lines, pronounce page 
after page of words, back and forth from one side to the other, requiring each 
individual who missed a word to be seated, and continuing until all were down 
or until at least all on one side were spelled down by those on the other side, 
a sort of shooting-Indian game that often grew very exciting and led to no 
tmall amount of rivalry for championship honors. 

This kind of training was often but the preparation for larger matches be- 
tween rival schools of adjoining districts. One school would issue a challenge 
to another; a time and place would be determined upon and a whole evening 
would be consumed in trying to decide which school could produce the best 
spellers. The contest in these inter-district matches would be conducted prac- 
tically as that described above, and as we can well imagine, the spirit of rivalry 
often led to very exciting times, even to the extent of bitter controversies and 
sharp words between the friends of the rival schools. The climax of interest 
and intensity would be reached when, after spelling some several hundred 
words, all but two or three of the best spellers on each side had gone down be- 
neath the merciless fire from Cobb's Speller, the U. S. Speller or Webster's Dic- 
tionary, with the pronouncer selecting the hardest words he could find, until 
finally another would go down, possibly leaving but one up on each side, or one 
against two or three on the other side, with the house crowded with friends of 
the rival contestants waiting in almost breathless expectation that the next word 
would be the shot that would decide the battle, and so thoroughly did some of 
these old-time grown-up scholars know their business that for hours at a time 
the battle would rage with but one or two up on each side, until finally for 
want of time the contest would end in a tie. 

These occasions, of course, attracted great crowds. The friends and sym- 
pathizers from the rival districts were there to see their champions vwn. Dis- 
tinguished spellers from a distance came, and teachers from other schools, to 
assist in selecting and pronouncing words, and many young couples came just 
lo have a place to go. 

231 



QUILTING BEES 

were another source of old-time entertainment coupled with profitable employ- 
ment. This time it was for the ladies alone. Remnants and scraps of all kinds 
of cloth that came into the house, or that was not entirely worn out in the gar- 
ments made of it, were saved, and cut into patches of various geometrical 
shapes, and week after week at odd spare moments or while visiting or enter- 
taining visitors were "pieced" or sewed into some selected pattern that would 
be considered attractive and beautiful. 

When one of the thrifty housewives was finally ready with a "nine-patch," 
a "star," a "Roarin' Eagle of Brazil" or some other such fancy pattern, it was 
put into the frames and a dozen or so of the neighboring women were invited 
to the quilting. The quilters were seated side by side around the frames with 
their feet extending under the quilt, which was just high enough to be handy for 
working. With a chalked cord the quilt was laid out in lines for sewing. It 
was quite an accomplishment to be a fine quilter, and each one did her best. 
For fancy quilting the design was marked on the quilt with a pencil, then sewed 
around and stuffed in with cotton. These fancy quilts were made of red and 
green on white, blue on white or some such combination of colors, and were 
considered the acme of good taste and difficult work. 

Every Jamily had a spare feather bed dressed in one of these beautiful 
quilts, and truly they were beautiful, but just how close such "spare beds" and 
bedding would conform to our modern ideas of health and hygiene is a problem. 
Of course, many of our female readers know all about the work of quilting, 
which is not by any means unheard of to-day, and we do not attempt to describe 
it in full. The opportunity thus afforded for sociability, for cultivating the 
powers of conversation and for developing the latent talent of spinsters and 
seamstresses to disseminate gossip has no doubt done much to prevent the full 
and free use of the tongue from becoming a lost art among the women of the 
present day. Hence we younger folks owe to the old-time "quilting bees" some- 
thing more than the handsome and very useful products of their skilled needles 
and thimbles which we have inherited, and the younger folks of that day often 
owed much to these semi-social functions of their elders also, for we are told 
3 quilting bee among the women was often accompanied by a corn-husking 
among the men, and that an afternoon thus spent in hard work for a neighbor, 
both in his house and in his fields or barn, could not help but bring permission 
for a "ho down" that night, and all hands, young and old, would dispel fatigue 
and banish care in a genuine old-time country frolic. 

Many a bashful swain and blushing maiden found in such an after-frolic 
as this the first opportunity to "hold hands" and "whisper words of love" that 
finally led to the establishment of a new home, the piecing of more quilts and 
the holding of other "bees." 

"And 'twas from Aunt Dinah's quilting party," etc. 

232 



CANDLE MAKING 

also came in the fall or winter, for it required cold weather for this job. At 
first it was the "tallow dip"; such things as candle molds were seldom or never 
known among the pioneer housekeepers, and even long after they did come into 
use, many families continued to make their year's supply of "Ughts" in the good 
old-fashioned way. A cold, freezing day was selected for this work, which was 
done either by one person using a small, deep kettle, or if on a large scale, two 
persons were necessary. When two worked at it, the tallow was put into a 
big iron kettle over the fire, and while it slowly melted, the soft cotton cord- 
like wicks were cut and twisted and hung on smooth round sticks long enough 
to reach a little more than across the top of the kettle and holding from six to 
twelve wicks, according to the size of the dipping kettle. 

Some twenty or thirty dozens of wicks would thus be prepared and made 
thoroughly dry, and when the tallow was melted the dipping began. 

The kettle had to be kept full to the top of the melted tallow and for this 
purpose water was sometimes put in the bottom of the kettle to float the grease 
up to the top. 

Then two workers took hold at the ends of the stick and dipped the wicks 
into the tallow; a drying rack on which to hang the sticks had to be close by, 
and this first dipping required extra attention, for as the wicks with all the tal- 
low they would hold began to cool the women had to strip them down and see 
that they hardened straight and smooth. After this initial dipping the work 
could progress rapidly. While dipping one set of wicks, another had cooled 
sufficiently to be re dipped, and this process was repeated over and over until 
the "dips" were of proper size. 

Some of the old-time superstition was apt to crop out in candle making, as 
indeed it did in many of the domestic duties and doings of the earlier days. 
For instance, on candle-making days, some families were careful to shut up all 
the cats or small dogs, for not only might they disturb the "tallow dips" while 
they were on the racks hardening, but if a cat or dog ran under them before 
they were put away it was a sure sign they would burn over a corpse before 
the end of the year, or if a candle was broken during the making, it was an ac- 
cident greatly to be deplored, for it foretold a break in the family circle before 
the year was out. 

While this process of "dipping" was a much more speedy way of making 
candles it did not produce the neat, round, smooth article turned out by the 
"candle molds." After these useful helps to the "light problem" made 
their advent into the farmhouse kitchen, anyone almost could make the candles, 
whereas it required one of skill and experience to "dip" a lot of respectable 
looking lights. The molds, which were made of tinplate, contained apertures 
for from six to a dozen or more candles. They were used by threading into 
each of these individual tubes, a wick similar to that used in making the "dips." 
suspended on small rods or sticks across the top of the "molds" and emerging 
from the orifice at the tapering point end of the tube below. The wick suf- 

233 



ficiently plugged this lower orifice to prevent the hot tallow from escaping wher 
poured in at the hopper-like top of the molds. 

Having thus filled the molds, they were placed to cool, after which by means 
of the sticks on which they were strung they were, with a little care, removec 
in good shape and were then hung away to the sleepers overhead in the cella: 
where the rats and mice could not reach them. 

The old brass candle-sticks of various patterns and designs, the iron "snuf 
fers" and the "molds" once so familiar in every farmhouse, are, in these day; 
of magic press-the-button lights, little more than "moldering relics of a formei 
age." 




"Rl'JJCvS OF A I'()RMI':r a(;k." 
(Winding a bobbin toy llu- I land Loom) 

234 



OTHER HOUSEHOLD DUTIES. 

In these days, with every home supplied with, or having within easy reach, 
all the books, periodicals and newspapers that can possibly be made use of; 
and with musical instruments as common as spinning wheels once were, the 
young folks sometimes wonder how their grandparents ever managed to spend 
the time, outside of the regular daylight working hours. 

We are assured, however, that there was plenty to do, even in the long 
winter evenings. The sewing necessary in the making of the family clothing 
took much time, for in the earlier days it was all done by hand, even long 
after Elias Howe's wonderful labor-saving machine was put upon the market 
most families could not afford or obtain one. Then there was the knitting of 
all the woolen footwear. This was something always on hand. The good 
housewife never failed to have her "knitting" ready to pick up for a few minutes 
or an hour or two whenever she chanced to have occasion to sit down or when 
visiting or receiving visitors; that is, when not engaged in some of the more 
formidable occupations, such as spinning or quilting; and then there was carpet- 
rag sewing which could always be worked at by the girls, and boys, too, for 
that matter, when nothing else was urgent. Of course, when our grandmothers 
and great-grandmothers did indulge in the luxury of carpets on the floor it was 
home-made rag carpet, and rags had to be collected and sewed for many months 
sometimes before enough for a carpet was obtained. As these sewed rags could 
be kept indefinitely, and as carpets would always be needed, we can easily un- 
derstand how sewing carpet rags, like knitting and mending garments and piec- 
ing quilts, could partake largely of the characteristics of Tennyson's Brook, and 
go on forever, almost, in the old-fashioned large family. 

Any one could soon learn to sew carpet rags, young or old, male or female; 
there was not much sewing skill required, hence the boys, for fun and amuse- 
ment, often joined the girls in an evening's carpet-rag sewing, making a regular 
"carpet-rag party" out of it. 

It seemed that an individual was never too young nor too old to sew carpet 
rags. It was usually the first sewing a girl learned to do, and as in our own 
old grandmother's case that, with sewing quilt patches, was the last she was 
able to do, having scarcely quit it yet at the age of ninety-three. 

When the writer was a small boy, almost as long ago as he can remember, 
he learned to sew carpet rags and to knit, as he sat at this same old grand- 
mother's knee, and admired the curious workings of her nimble fingers that re- 
sulted in endless yards of carpet rags, or that so strangely transformed the 
equally endless strands of yarn into stockings and mittens, the like of which for 
warmth and wear he has never found since. 

There was auite a useful lesson in the doing of these things, a lesson we 
would do well to learn more often to-day. Knitting taught patience, as did the 

235 




THE OLD CHIMNEY CORNER. 
( W'licrc tile wriler Icarnrd to sew carpet rags and knit) 



sewing cf carpet rags and quilt patches; and they all taught economy and thrift 
and industry; taught how to do much with little, and how to make every spare 
m.oment profitable by transforming, in time that would otherwise have been 
lost, a single thread of yarn into clothing, and bits of waste cloth into carpet or 
bed quilts. 

All the old scraps of cloth about the house were made use of for one or the 
other of these purposes. Old dresses, coats, cast-off wearing apparel of all 
kinds — if it were strong enough yet to be torn or cut into strips about an inch 
wide and anywhere from one to three or four feet long were pressed into serv- 
ice for carpet rags. Odds and ends too small for this purpose were cut into 
quilt patches, so that practically nothing in this line went to waste. The strips 
just referred to were sewed end to end in one long string and wound into balls 
weighing from two to four pounds, and when after a time enough of these balls, 
or enough pounds of sewed rags were gotten together, they were taken, along 
with the proper number of pounds of cotton "chain," to the carpet weavers, or 
perhaps they were woven into carpet right at home on the old hand-loom. 

Speaking of this economic turning to account of the odds and ends in the 
old-time home, reminds us of another almost forgotten art that once served the 

236 



same purposes, namely, that cf soap-making, but for want of space we shall 
only briefly miCntion this one-time familiar home industry. 

Our grandmothers made their own soaps chiefly for two reasons: First, 
because they needed soap, and, second, because in most instances they could 
get it in no other way. 

If they could buy soap at the stores it was a needless expenditure of hard- 
earned money for something they could make for themselves out of the ma- 
terial that would otherwise go to waste. Besides, most of these good house- 
wives preferred their own make to the "store-soap." 

The two materials necessary for soap-making — fat and alkali — were com- 
paratively easily obtained, only requiring, as in the collection of carpet and quilt 
material, a little tim^e to accumulate a sufficient quantity. 

"Soap grease" was obtained by saving all the scraps of fat meat, lard, tal- 
low, meat skins and the general "cff haul" from the kitchen; or perhaps the bulk 
of it kept out for that purpose ?t the butchering time. 

The lye was made by soaking wood ashes in water by means of the old 
*'ash-hopper," v.'hich was so constructed as to hold a large quantity of ashes, 
and having an opening draining into a trough, or a vessel of some kind at the 
bottom, so that water could slowly percolate down through the hopper, extract- 
ing the alkaline salts from the ashes and yielding a dark, strong liquid lye in 
which the grease was boiled until by chemical action it was saponified or turned 
into "soft-soap." This was made in large quantities about once or twice a year 
and kept in barrels, kegs, crocks or jugs ready for use for all purposes, whether 
for the toilet or laundry. "H?.rd-soap" was also made in much the same way 
and cut out in blocks, or cakes, which certainly never lost their strength with 
f^ge, for we have very distinct recollections of using old-hardened cakes of 
home-made soap when a boy that not only removed the several lays of dirt that 
usually encased a country boy's hands, but it appeared to us, always carried 
away one or more layers of skin with it. The mention of soft-soap in jugs 
reminds us of a practical joke that was one time played by a well-known Frank- 
lin township citizen on one of his equally well-known neighbors. 

These two men were noted for their fun and tricks on each other, and one 
cold winter morning one chanced to meet the other coming along the road with 
? jug in his hand. Now in those days at least nine out of every ten jugs you 
would meet contained whisky, which, as our readers know, was home-made and 
cheap. It was therefore quite natural for Mr. A. to conclude that Mr. B.'s jug 
contained whisky, so after most cordially greeting his neighbor and receiving 
just as warm a greeting in return, Mr. A. remarked that as it was a very cold 
morning, and "seeing you have a jug of whisky. Mr. B., I shall be glad to take 
a drink with you." This was the opportunity Mr. B. had been longing for 
for months to pay back some old scores, so he very cordially acquiesced as to 
the coolness of the morning and assuring this friend that the jug contained as 
fine an article as could be found in the country, he raised the jug and bade Mr. 
A. to he^p himself. 

237 



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wits was there — a whole team in himself. This was George, the farmer's son, 
for several years a married man who resided on an adjacent farm. He loved 
fun and the society of young folks, and they in return equally loved him, for his 
company was sought wherever amusement was desired. It was on this occasion 
when the short hours had pretty closely advanced that he introduced with the 
most impenetrable gravity the subject of 'Elbedritches.' This novelty at once 
brought the attention of the company, especially of the more credulous, who 
listened in gaping astonishment at his marvelous disclosure respecting their 
original habits and haunts, also when captured from their rarity the fabulous 
prices their skins brought in the market. According to his account, with the 
occasional assistance of one or two others, it was finally arranged or rather 
understood that 'Elbedritches' were small animals of various colors, sometimes 
white, sometimes brown or black, but often striped and that their chief value 
consisted in the extraordinary beauty and the fineness of their fur, which was 
to be obtained in the greatest perfection only during the coldest weather of 
winter. It was further stated that they abounded only on the highest hilltops 
and could only be captured on the coldest and windiest nights. 

"To secure them it was necessary for several persons to hold a large sack 
or blanket extended in such a manner that when started up or pursued the small 
animals could easily be caught. 

"It was supposed with the first suitable occasion several dozen at least might 
be bagged. Before the breaking up of that company that night it was observed 
that some of the aforesaid remarks had made an impression from the anxious 
inquiries that had been made respecting them, and several freely expressed a 
willingness to try their hands at the business. 

"On an evening of the following December at the same farm house and in 
*hat same kitchen were assembled the whole household, with perhaps two or 
three exceptions as to the old folks, besides several visitors of the neighborhood, 
"n one corner of the room on a table at work was a journeyman tailor who was 
a keen lover of jokes and whose eyes were full of mischief. Nearby on a stool 
sat a traveling cobbler engaged in repairing shoes — a gullible, simple-minded 
fellow. In an opposite corner seated over a spade was a German who had been 
recently bought for his passage. He was busily shelling corn in a tub for mush 
and feeding the chickens in the morning. His name was Henry, and he was of 
an awkward sluggish disposition. Near the centre was a single woman, but 
for some time out of her 'teens' who was following her regular profession — I 
mean — spinning. In another corner a hired girl was ironing at a table. With 
these exceptions the rest were chiefly seated in a kind of semi-circle in front of 
the huge fireplace where a bright, blazing fire of hickory afforded nearly light 
enough to illuminate the ample room. 

"After all kinds of things had been talked over, and the corner clock had 
for some time struck nine, who should enter but George, our wag. The mo- 
ment the tailor observed him, he said in the greatest glee: 'You are the very 
man for us, now is the time to catch Elbedritches.' 

240 



"Thus the subject was at once introduced, and as may be well supposed, 
there were some profound speculations as to the nature and character of these 
strange animals. However, before ten o'clock the evening work had all been 
finished, and the requisite preparations made when the party in the most buoy- 
ant spirits started for the summit of the highest hill in the whole country. 

"The night was clear and cold and unusually windy. Every star in the deep, 
blue firmament seemed visible and to shine with more than ordinary lustre as 
if to compensate for the moon's absence. 

"A light crest of snow lay over the landscape and materially contributed to 
banish all ideas of gloominess. 

"George and the tailor acted as pilots, and struck a bee-line across some 
three or four fields of gradual ascent before they attained the bald open side of 
the summit. 

"While on the journey, Henry, with true German thoughtfulness, related 
that with his share of the prize money he meant to purchase himself a pocket- 
knife and a pair of mittens. The cobbler said that he should want a hat and 
coat and some tobacco; the spinner and hired girl on the night of the apple- 
butter boiling had fixed on a bonnet surmounted with ostrich feathers and dec- 
orated with red and yellow ribbons with ear and finger rings to correspond. 

"Our sanguine party at length attained the brow of the hill and found them- 
selves in the centre of what might be called a "Common," extending over some 
ten or twelve acres of ground, with here and there an occasional patch of whor- 
tleberry, or sweet fern bush. 

"George, business-like, unfolded a blanket and stationed one at each corner, 
giving explicit directions how they should stand, hold and use the same, so as 
to insure success. 

"He and the tailor then started for the adjoining woods, which more than 
half encircled them, to start up and drive to the blanket, as they said, these 
Elbedritches would do. 

"It will at once appear that as soon as they reached the woods by a circuit- 
ous route, they hastened to the home to see how long the party would stay to 
freeze over their credulity. After the tailor had left (although unknown to 
him), he started up a rabbit close by Henry and the cobbler who both observed 
it thinking that the Elbedritches were already beginning to make their appear- 
ance. 

"As the four stood there with the extended blanket, the vAnd kept howling 
most dismally through forests, and by sudden fits would almost take them from 
cflf their feet. They were, however, pretty well provided against the cold, ex- 
cepting Henry, whose hands began to suffer for want of the mittens, who, 
strange to say, had so ardently expected by this freezing, to have them warm 
in the future. 

"After waiting for about half an hour and seeing neither Elbedritches, the 
tailor nor George, the hired girl and the spinner declared they could stand it no 
longer and therefore started for home. 

241 



"Henry having now carefully wrapped his hands in one corner of the blan- 
ket, began to feel more comfortable and agreed with the cobbler to hold on a 
while longer, especially since they had been encouraged by what they had seen 
with their own eyes. 

"Here, then, on the bleak northwest summit of the highest hill in thc; 
country in December's coldest night with several inches of snow on the ground 
and buffeted by the howling tempest in the dreary hours of midnight did our 
two heroes stand holding a blanket and waiting for Elbedritches. 

"Would as their chronicler I could give them immortality, for they certainly 
deserved it. 

"Nearly one o'clock Henry and the cobbler were compelled to succumb, 
half frozen and woefully disappointed. As they entered the kitchen they found 
George and the tailor seated comfortably before the fire engaged in a pleasant 
chat over a plate of apples and a mug of cider. 

"The spinner and the hired girl had some time ago retired sullenly to rest. 
Our men, who were in quite an agreeable mood, now expected a regular blow- 
ing up, but the contrary was rather the result, for Henry and the cobbler from 
a quarrel on the way home had now gotten into an earnest discussion about a 
matter that turned out as novel as it proved unexpected. 

"It appeared that just after they had started for home, and the cobbler 
being some twenty yards ahead, Henry saw something come from out the 
fern bushes close behind him, and observed it to be a handsome little animal 
striped with black and white. He quickly took the blanket from under his arm, 
and, holding it outspread with extending hands, rushed on the object, which in 
a twinkling he had gathered in and rolled up in a heap. 

"He then called the cobbler, telling him that he had certainly caught an 
Elbedritch. The cobbler in the greatest excitement hurried back, not knowing 
exactly what he meant, and seeing him point to the blanket, from his unbounded 
curiosity anxiously thrust his arm inside and part of his head, but as suddenly 
withdrew, venting curses loud and deep on the unfortunate German. Thus 
among the three the night was rendered the more hideous by stench, cursing 
and quarreling. The blanket with its prisoner was reluctantly left behind, and 
in this plight and mind the two deluded victims had entered the kitchen. 

"George and the tailor were at last compelled to retire, the former to his 
home and the other to his bed, thus leaving the two before the fire warmly 
discussing the difference between Elbedritches and Skunks. 

"The cobbler contended that they were entirely distinct, the former being 
aerial or spiritual things with all the angelic graces and virtue, though in an 
animal's garb, while the latter were of the lowest origin bent on the Devil's 
errand, aided by one of the vilest compounds distilled in the lowermost regions. 

"Henry, stupid as he was, firmly maintained his opinion. He instanced 
how well the description that had been given of one agreed with the other, be- 
sides, as neither were known in Germany, they must certainly be the same. As 
for the smell, whether it was a usual accompaniment he did not pretend to 

242 



know, from having had no previous experience, and as to its being celestial, 
terrestrial or helestial in origin was more than he could understand. 

"Thus the night wore on and this learned discussion about Elbedritches 
came to a close as the two from the effects of their exposure went to sleep on 
chairs before the hearth." 



SQUIRREL HUNTING. 

Our fathers and grandfathers take great interest, many of them, in re- 
counting their squirrel hunting days, just as others, and even some of these 
same persons do in recalling their old-time fishing sports. 

Gray squirrels were once very plentiful all over this Yough region, and 
hunting them with the rifle was a favorite sport, in which many of our older 
citizens were once very proficient. We are told that in the good old squirrel 
hunting days, almost every boy old enough to handle a rifle could put a ball 
through the head of a squirrel three times out of five, or even better, on the 
tops of the highest trees. No one in those days would think of shooting a 
squirrel except in the head. 

The destructive shotgun had not yet come into general use. As the timber 
was gradually cut away, the squirrels naturally became less plentiful, and a 
great deal more tact and woodcraft were demanded of the successful hunter. 
With the increase of population, the destruction of the timber and the replace- 
ment of the old muzzle-loading rifle wath the double-barreled shotgun, the gray 
squirrel has been practically banished from the region, and thus another of the 
old-time pleasures has yielded to the destructive advances of civilization. 

Aside from the interest in gray squirrels as a source of pleasure and profit 
to the old-time rifleman, there is something singular in their history that may 
be interesting to our readers. Sometimes in the course of a few years these 
beautiful but destructive inhabitants of the forests would become so numerous 
in certain regions as to give great annoyance to the first settlers, even threat- 
ening the destruction of whole crops and devouring at times great quantities of 
corn in the fields. And then, all at once, and as if by common consent, they 
would gather up and migrate to some other part of the country. Stories of 
these migrations sound almost incredible in the light of the present day scar- 
city of the animals, but we have it on reliable authority that in the early times 
these migrations often took place in such vast numbers that it would require 
many days for the marching columns of several miles in width to pass any given 
point. 

At the commencement of their march they were said to be fat, and to fur- 
nish an agreeable article of diet, but towards its conclusion they became quite 
poor and sickly and many of them died of disease or perished by thousands in 
attempting to cross the streams that lay in their course. 

When a region had thus been depopulated, the squirrels were scarce for 
some years, when they would again multiply to great numbers, emigrate and 
perish as before. 

243 



The cause of this peculiar action has never been satisfactorily explained. 
It cannot be the want cf food, for the districts or countries they left were often 
as fruitful, or more so, than those to which they directed their course. 

A good story is told by an old lumberman, who, in the early days of steam- 
boats on the Ohio River contracted to deliver on board the steamboat 100,000 
shingles at one of the landings. 

The shing'es were stacked on the bank of the river ready for shipment. 
A few days after, the lumberman heard that most of his shingles had been 
stolen and that it was probable they had gone to Pittsburg. 

On receiving this unwelcome news he drove down to the river to look after 
the condition of things. Before he reached the place he found the woods alive 
with squirrels marching toward the river. On his return he was asked what' 
discoveries had been made. The reply was: "The shingles never went to 
Pittsburg. They all went down the river and it is useless to look in Pittsburg 
or any other place for them. I got to the river just in time to know all about 
it. You see, the squirrels were marching across the river at this point, and the 
commanding general is net much on a swim, and he carried one of my shingles 
down to the water and rode over on it, and every colonel, captain, lieutenant 
and non-commissioned officer did what they saw their general do, and finally 
the rank and file made a raid, and I got there just as an old squirrel came down 
to the water dragging a shingle which he shoved into the river, jumped upon 
it. raised his brush for a sail and over high and dry, and when near enough to 
the other shore leaped ofT and let his boat float down the stream. 

"As soon as these observations were taken in I went up on the high bank 
where the shingles had been placed and found there was not a shingle left. 
They are down the river, gentlemen, down the river." 

This story receives a shadow of support from the learned and cautious 
Buffon, who observes: "Although navigation of the gray squirrels seems in- 
credible, they are attested by so many witnesses that we cannot deny the fact," 
and in a note on the subject he also says: "The gray squirrels frequently re- 
move their place of residence, and it not unoften happens that not one can be 
seen ojie winter where they were in multitudes the year before. They go in 
large bodies and when they want to cross a lake or river they seize a piece of 
the bark of a birch or lime, and, drawing it to the edge of the water, get upon 
it and trust themselves to the hazard of the wind and waves, erecting their tails 
to serve the purpose of sails. 

"They sometimes form a fleet of 3000 or 4000, and if the wind proves too 
strong a general shipwreck ensues, but if the winds are favorable they are cer- 
tain to make their desired port." 



244 



"WILD GOOSECHASING." 

This account of the migration of gray squirrels reminds us of another fact 
of natural history along this same line with which all our readers may not be 
familiar. 

We refer to the passage of wild geese back and forth across this region in 
the spring and fall. In the fall of the year, say along in late October and No- 
vember, great numbers of these noisy travelers left their summer habitat along 
the Great Lakes and migrated to the more genial climate of the southern waters. 
It was always looked upon as an unfailing sign of the approach of cold weather 
when the geese began to go ever. Once in a while, however, they appeared to 
have made a mistake and a considerable period of warm weather occurring 
after their flight would cause them to return to the north and later go south 
again. At the approach of warm weather in the spring they made the same 
journey northward. They usually traveled in large flocks and at quite a dis- 
tance above the earth, possibly a quarter of a mile or more, for they looked very 
small, and their peculiar squalk, which attracted attention to them, sounded as 
if a long way off in the sky. 

Their flocks assumed various shapes, the most common of which was that 
of a huge wedge, with one old gander in the lead, with two, four, six, eight, etc., 
gradually spreading out into the body of the wedge behind him. We used to 
have great amusement when that familiar far-away squall announced the pas- 
sage of a flock of geese trying to count them before they got beyond the reach 
of the eye. Often thirty to fifty or more would be lined up in one of these fly- 
ing "wedges," keeping together as neatly and regularly as if joined to each 
other by some invisible cord running throughout the flock. 

Occasionally one or more stragglers would be seen laboriously beating his 
way along in the rear as if the flight was proving too much for his strength. 
Once in a while a flock would approach quite near to the earth, so near, indeed. 
as to attract the attention of gunners, who would often follow firing after them 
for quite a distance, but seldom or never succeeded in getting the coveted roast, 
for a flock that looked to be quite within gun-shot when some distance away 
was found to be entirely out of reach of the best marksman when he succeeded 
in getting under them. 

Many a squalling flock in its slow flght across this region has thus been 
chased from hill to hill by some excited swain who felt sure the geese would 
alight on the next ridge of hills, or would be so low as to be easily killed by his 
gun, only to find when the hill was reached that his game was as far away as 
ever, and that he had had his "wild-goose chase" for nothing, thus giving rise 
to that familiar expression so often used to denote a fruitless or foolish busi- 
ness venture. 



245 



WITCHCRAFT. 

One who has not previously given any attention to such things will be 
greatly surprised at the widespread belief in witches and their mysterious influ- 
ences that must have one time prevailed throughout all this section of the coun- 
try, and, indeed, in every new community before popular education had gained 
the predominance. 

He is almost equally surprised at the tenacity with which such supersti- 
tions hold on among a people where they have once gotten a fairly good start. 

It only requires a little inquiry among the older citizens and a tolerably 
close observation as one goes about in any rural district to-day to demonstrate 
to his entire satisfaction that there was a time not many generations ago when 
witches actually had their abode among us, and that hundreds of persons who 
now laugh at the idea of a "real live witch" arc yet unconsciously or secretly 
paying their little tribute to the throne of ignorance where once their ancestors 
worshiped boldly and blindly. Such persons, of course, will not admit that 
they are in the least superstitious, and they try not to be, but it is very difficult 
and takes a long time in the history of a people to entirely root out the results 
of ignorance and evil once sown broadcast upon so fertile a soil as that of a 
newly settled country. 

This fact is also demonstrated in the readiness of a certain class of people 
in every community to eagerly lay hold of every religious, medical or other fad 
that comes along if it chance to be clothed in a strange or mysterious garment, 
thus showing the constant tendency to relapse towards that state of society 
that once admitted witchcraft without a question because, forsooth, it furnished 
a ready-made cause for many effects that were as yet unexplained and uncx- 
plainable. 

There is not a particle of doubt that many of the notions of religion, and 
medicine, and science in general, and of the numerous and varied combinations 
of these notions that are blindly accepted to-day, will be thrown on the same 
dump-heap with withcraft just as soon as popular intelligence has arisen to the 
place where it can grasp the real explanation of the phenomena involved in 
them. In medicine, for instance, we have seen wonderful cures wrought by the 
more or less intricate and complicated machinery of some supposed new method 
of treatment, that were wholly explainable on the simplest principles of truth 
that have been known and practiced under one name or another as long as the 
history of man. 

And we are equally sanguine that we have seen much under the name of 
religion what perfectly sincere and honest people have thought to be the work- 
ings of the most commendable religious convictions, that, in our own humble 
opinion, were but the manifestations of every-day hypnotism and hysteria. 
This is meant as no criticism on medicine or religion, far be it from the writer's 

2-16 



purpose to even suggest a slur at either, but it is only used to illustrate the 
point we make, namely, that much of the belief and practice of any age must 
necessarily be found false, and therefore discarded in the light of the greater 
knowledge of the age that follows it. 

We cannot wonder, therefor, that in the early days of our country all man- 
ner of afflictions and misfortunes were prone to be attributed to witches. In 
fact, anything that in the rather limited extent of knowledge could not be well 
explained or accounted for any other way, was charged to the mysterious influ- 
ences of witchcraft. 

Strange or incurable diseases, especially among children; the death of cat- 
tle, horses or other live stock, failures to accomplish certain kinds of work; 
destruction of all kinds of property were among the many evils ascribed to this 
source. 

In the very early day there were also wizards as well as witches, but these 
seldom exercised their mysterious powers for bad purposes. In fact, the pow- 
ers of the wizards were exercised almost exclusively, it is said, to counteract 
the evil influences of the witches. No one ever knew just how or by what means 
these witches accomplished their evil purposes; in fact, no one was supposed 
to know except the witch herself; her's being the darkest of the occult sciences, 
else there would have been no witches or wizards. We find in conversing with 
older folks on this subject that here and there at rather distant intervals were 
eld women, usually some poor old widow or deserted grandmother who prob- 
ably lived alone, who were accused of being witches. We have in mind now an 
eld log house that stood for many years in an out of the way place, as many 
of these old houses of the early day did, located away off from the road, and 
which as long as we can remember was known as the "witch house." Here 
lived all alone for many years in the days of our great-grandparents an old 
woman generally supposed by the community to be a witch. 

That this supposition had some ground in fact, or that it was more than a 
mere supposition, an accusation conclusively proven at least to the entire sat- 
isfaction of many of her neighbors, the following little incident will demon- 
strate. Now witches, it must be borne in mind, do not go about on their er- 
rands of deviltry in natural or human form, and this particular old witch had 
long been thought to assume the shape of a rabbit, or more correctly speak- 
ing, perhaps, "to turn to a rabbit" when on her raids. 

This suspicion and fear was finally confirmed in the following manner: 
A party of men were out 'coon hunting one night — this being one of the more 
common old-time sports — when towards morning the dogs got after a rabbit 
and ran it so closely that to escape capture it jumped through a broken pane 
in a low window of this old hillside cabin, much to the disappointment of the 
dogs and to the astonishment of the hunters, who, when they arrived on the 
scene and began to look inside for the rabbit, found instead the old woman 
sitting there panting for breath as if she had been running a long distance. Of 
course it did not take long to put fact and fancy together and make out a clear 

247 



case against the poor old frightened creature. The identity of the witch had 
now been established beyond a doubt, and for the rest of her days the old 
woman that lived alone on the hillside was shunned and feared as a deadly 
foe to the welfare of the neighborhood. Rabbits, too, were everywhere placed 
under suspicion, for it was not known just what particular one might chance to 
be the guise under which the old witch was making her nightly depredations 
upon the community. As an evidence of this, it is related that a certain well 
known farmer in sugar-making time was alone in his sugar camp one night 
about ready to "syrup off," when he caught the glimpse of a rabbit running 
past his sugar-house, and a moment later his kettles, with all their contents 
were completely overturned as if by some unseen hand. This was too much 
for the old gentleman, and he deserted the "camp" and made for home without 
delay. He was not a coward and would not have run from anyone he could 
see, but a witch was not to be trifled with, and that this destruction of his syrup 
was the work of the old witch of the hillside there could be no reasonable 
doubt, for he had seen the rabbit. 

No wonder such a mysterious and destructive being should be looked upon 
with fear by the rural folks far and near, for not only did she upset kettles of 
syrup, but she upset many a plan or undertaking that was of more value than 
the boiling sweets. She caused whole fields of grain to go bad; fruit trees to 
fail to do their duty; cows to give bloody milk, and even milked the cows at 
times in a most mysterious and witch-like manner. 

For instance, it was said that the witch fixed a new pin in a new towel for 
each cow that was to be milked, then hung these towels over her door and 
by means of certain incantations milk was extracted from the fringes of the 
suspended towel after the manner of milking a cow. 

The death of horses, cattle, hogs or any kind of stock was of course at- 
tributed to the witch, who also put various animals under "spells" and malign 
influences which could only be broken by the most heroic methods. 

This leads us to say a few words as to the various ways of trying to de- 
stroy the witch or break her "power." 

Here we meet some very subtle problems; we shall not attempt, however, 
in our limited space to fathom the philosophy of witchcraft, or even give a 
kngthy account of the subject in general, only such as pertains to the region 
under discussion, and that only as we have very hastily gathered it from the 
traditions still lingering with many of the older citizens. 

There were different ways of breaking the influence of a witch or of cast- 
ing a "spell" on her that would restrain her evil acts for a time at least. For 
instance, when cattle or dogs were supposed to be under the influence of witch- 
traft, they were burnt in the forehead by a branding iron, or when dead their 
bodies were burned to ashes. Fire was a most potent remedy in combatting 
witchcraft. It inflicted a spell on the witch that could only be broken in one 
way, and that was by her borrowing something from the family by whom the 
"spell" was produced. Indeed, this was considered the only way the witch had 

248 



of relieving herself from the "spell," no matter how inflicted, and we are told 
this was once so thoroughly believed that women on whom there rested the 
slightest suspicion as to witchcraft, were often refused requests which would 
otherwise have been granted without hesitation, and good persons, entirely in- 
nocent of the cause of their refusal, have been nearly heart-broken when they 
learned why the usual neighborly kindness had not been shown them.. 

There prevails, we find, entire uniformity of opinion as to the fact that 
there was but one way to wound or kill a witch, and that was to shoot it with 
a silver bullet. Of course, this did not mean to kill the old woman, but re- 
ferred to killing the rabbit or other small animal that personified the witch. 
One of our neighbors told us of a man who pounded his silver cuff-buttons 
into a bullet with which he killed a troublesome witch. As ^^\ of this was over 
a hundred years ago we can easily understand that ammunition for witch hunt- 
ing was not plenty; then, too, it was no easy matter to detect the right animal 
to be killed, and finally even when one had enough silver for a bullet and knew 
what to shoot, he was just as apt to find that the devining old tormentor had 
bewitched his gun and thus saved the life of the witch. 

Another method of curing the disease, or removing the influence exerted 
by a witch was to draw the outline or picture of the supposed witch on a card- 
board or stump and shoot it with the bit of silver. This inflicted a painful and 
sometimes mortal spell on that part of the witch corresponding to the part of 
the picture struck by the bullet. We spoke a moment ago of burning the bodies 
of animals supposed to have died from the influence of witchcraft. If this were 
done under the proper conditions it was said to be an infallible method of either 
driving ofif or breaking the power of the witch. One instance will serve to ex- 
plain this method of treatment should any of our readers ever have occasion 
to use it. 

This story can be easily verified by any one who will take the pains to make 
a few inquiries among the old grandmothers in the region of Washington's 
Bottoms or Perryopolis. 

A certain farmer who had had several cows and horses die was told that 
if he would burn the next one to ashes without leaving the fire or saying a word 
to anyone while it was burning it would drive out the witch and he would lose 
no more stock. 

He concluded to try it, and when some time after this a valuable horse 
died, he hauled the body to a distant out-of-the-way spot and built a great log- 
heap about the dead animal and began to burn it. Before the fire had pro- 
gressed far a messenger came running in great excitement to tell the farmer 
his mother was suddenly takm extremely ill, and that he should come at once 
or she would be dead from the horrible pain she suffered. The farmer, of 
course, forgot his task and rushed to his mother's home. When he arrived, 
however, his mother was much better and soon recovered. But this had inter- 
rupted his burning out of the witch and it was not long until he lost another 
horse. This time his neighbors persuaded him that he must stick to his task 

249 



and burn the animal according to directions, no matter who or what called him. 

He determined to do so, and after getting the huge fire well started, word 
was again sent to him that his mother was sick. This time he heeded not, nor 
spoke to anyone until the animal was completely consumed. Then he returned 
to the house and to his astonishment found his mother had died, and that, too, 
at the very hour when the bonfire had been at its height. There could be no 
doubt about it now — his own mother had been the witch that caused all his 
trouble, and henceforth there were no more mysterious deaths among the live 
stock of the neighborhood. 

Many such stories as we have above quoted might be gathered in any com- 
munity whose settlement dates back a hundred years or more ago, and it is 
interesting to note the gradual disappearance of the belief in such supersti- 
tions; each succeeding generation showing less of it in direct proportion to the 
growth and distribution of popular education. 

Ignorance is always associated with superstition, and the relative amount 
of intellectual development of any age or community can be well estimated by 
the extent of the belief in witchcraft, signs and other superstitions which we 
find to have prevailed at that time or place. 

We are apt to console ourselves with the thought that all of this kind of 
foolish thing was "very long ago," and that our ancestors at least never had 
any part in it. Do not, we beg of you, be too sanguine about this. You may 
not have to go far beyond your own age and family to find ample evidence, if 
you look closely enough, to convince you that the day of haunted houses, 
graveyard ghosts, and "real live witches" was not as far back along the path- 
way of progress as you may have imagined. You might even yet, if you will 
look around, find a house here and there in which it would be considered almost 
suicidal for families acquainted with the circumstances, to attempt to live. 

If you would search the hog troughs or the stable doors in almost any 
neighborhood you would very probaly find a horseshoe there, presumably for 
"good luck," but in reality, to keep the hogs or the horses from becoming be- 
witched. If you were raised on the farm you have often heard of the "churn- 
ing" becoming bewitched; you might even have found a silver coin in the bot- 
tom of the churn, kept there to keep out the witches, or if you were watching 
en from some secret hiding place you may have some time seen the witch 
driven out by whipping the churn with a witch-hazel bush or burned out by 
placing in the bewitched cream a red-hot flat iron. 

We boast of our present-day enlightenment and civilization, and we smile 
at the credulity of any community that could have tolerated such conditions as 
we have just described, but let us not be too exultant. There are enough rem- 
nants of this same superstition in every community, and we were about to say, 
in every one of us if it were separated out and shown to us in its true light, 
to make us blush with shame. We would find no one to-day, perhaps, in the 
more enlightened communities, who would believe for a moment in witches, but 
if we could get an honest confession we would find hundreds of people every- 

250 



where who are frightened at the import of a dream; who secretly shudder at 
the howling of a dog, or the ringing of the so-called "death-bell" in the ear, 
who will risk bodily harm to pick up a pin on a crowded street for good luck; 
who have nailed a horseshoe over the door for the same reason; who consult 
the signs of the zodiac, that relic of paganism that still clings to the calendars, 
as regularly as they do their Bibles; who plan their work and plant their seeds 
with religious faithfulness to the phases of the moon; who would no more think 
of whistling before breakfast than they would dare to disregard the fatal in- 
fluences of Friday or the number "thirteen." 

We are told that the good old sugar-maker before referred to, whose ket- 
tles were so mysteriously capsized, was such a strict Covenanter that he would 
go through his camp on Saturday evening and turn his troughs upside down 
to prevent their gathering sugar water on Sunday, and yet with all such re- 
ligious strictness we cannot help but question the type of Christianity that will 
permit its possessor to believe in ghosts and witches; neither can we quite un- 
derstand how one can be a good Christian, sincere and unshaken in his faith, 
and at the same time allow an unlucky number or day, a dream, a horseshoe, or 
a sign in the calendar to have a part in the control of his or her daily life. 



MEDICAL. 

Did time and space permit it, very much of interest could be written along 
the line of bodily afflictions and diseases in the days of the fathers, and of the 
old-time remedies employed in their treatment. 

Naturally, the privations and hardships of the early settlers led to much 
physical suffering, in spite of the fact that, as a rule, they were an unusually 
rugged and hardy class of people. We can little realize at the present day, with 
all this land so wonderfully changed and with our homes surrounded with every 
convenience and luxury, just what was encountered when the country was new. 
With the scanty protection often afforded by their cabins; the scarcity of the 
proper quality of clothing; the frequent and prolonged exposure in all kinds of 
severe weather; the entire absence of sanitary and hygienic measures in homes 
£nd communities; the lack of drainage for the soil, and the tremendous growth 
of wild weeds and smaller vegetation which gave rise to what in many sections 
amounted to almost a scourge of all kinds of annoying insects; and not by any 
means the least harmful annoyance, the great number of poisonous snakes that 
infested the land — with all this, we say, it is small wonder that there was a 
great deal of sickness, and, comparatively speaking, many deaths. The greater 
wonder is that they got along as well as they did. 

As we see it now, there were perhaps three factors in their manner of liv- 
ing which had most to do in counteracting these baneful influences, and in thus 
enabling so many of them to escape disease and death. 

These were their great amount of out-door life; their simple diet, and their 

251 



almost entire freedom from the present-day nerve-racking strife after social, 
educational and financial position. 

Of course, in the early days of the settlement and development of this re- 
gion, there were practically no educated physicians within reach. Occasionally 
there was to be found a man v;ho posed as a doctor, who had "read medicine" 
with Eom.e one perhaps, cr in rare instances, had even "been to the lectures," 
but the practices of these so-called doctors, when they were to found, were 
often as crude and ineffective as that of the backwoodsman himself, so when 
the pioneer was wounded or stricken with disease it practically amounted to a 
queslicn of "survive or perish," "nght it through alone and get Vvell if you can, 
or die if you must." 

One of the earliest writers of this period says: "For many years in suc- 
cession there was no person who bore even the name of a doctor within a con- 
siderable distance of my father's residence. Whether the medical profession 
is productive of most good or harm, may still (1820) be a matter of dispute with 
some philosophers who never saw any condition of society in which there were 
no physicians and therefore could not be furnished a proper test for deciding 
the question. 

"Had an unbeliever in the healing art been amongst the early inhabitants 
of this region he would have been in a proper position to witness the conse- 
quences of the want of the exercise of this art. For the honor of the medical 
profession I must give it as my opinion that many of our people perished for 
want of medical skill and attention. Gun shot and other wounds were treated 
with slippery elm bark, flax-seed and other poultices. Many lost their lives 
from wounds which would now be considered trifiFling and easily cured." 

This was written nearly a hundred years ago of a condition of society prior 
to that, and yet the writer has seen just such foolish practices in the present 
day; even seen lives lost at this advanced age of the world from ignorant and 
foolish attempts to "draw out the poison" of wounds with somebody's home- 
made or quack salve; or poultice an abscess to a "head" with flax-seed, bread 
and milk or some such concoction which only served to cause the loss of val- 
uable time that shouM have been used to prevent or cut short the process of 
disease and destruction going en in the tissues. 

Continuing, this writer says: "My mother died in early life from the tread 
of a horse which any person in the habit of letting blood might have cured 
without any other remedy. The wound was poulticed with spikenard root and 
soon terminated in an extensive mortification. My father died of an 'hepatitis' 
(inflammation of the liver resulting from an attack of malaria that could have 
been cured with a few doses of quinine) at the age of about forty-six. He had 
labored under this disease for thirteen years. The fever which accompanied it 
was called the 'dumb ague,' and the swelling in the region of the liver, the 
'ague cake.' The abscess bursted and discharged a large quantity of matter 
which put a period to his life in about thirty-six hours after the commencement 
of the discharge. Thus I for one may say that in all human probability I lost 
both of my parents for want of medical aid." 

252 



Naturally enough, rheumatism was one of the most common afflictions 
among the early settlers. It was treated, as a rule, by external applications, 
such as the oil cf rattlesnakes, geese, wolves, bears, groundhogs and pole-cats, 
which was rubbed in before the fire. 

Coughs and pulmonary diseases were treated with a great variety of de- 
coctions and syrups, in which spikenard and elecampane played an important 
part. Little or no relief is said to have come from such syrups, and they must 
certainly have done harm to the digestive tract at least. The diseases of chil- 
dren were mostly ascribed to wcrms, for which a large dose of common salt; 
scrapings of pewter spoons, or green copperas (sulphate of iron) were given. 

Many children died of croup, or what was called "bold hives." The most 
common remedy for this was the juice of roasted onions or garlic given in 
large doses. For fevers, sweating was the general remedy and was produced 
by large doses of strong decoc:ions of Virginia snake root. Patients were 
denied cold water and fresh air, and many of them died or afterwards had 
dropsy or consumption. 

White walnut bark, made into a strong tea, and given in half-pint doses, 
was a common m.edicine, we are told, for digestive disorders. "When intended 
for a purge, the bark was peeled downward; when for a vomit, it was peeled 
upwards." 

The "itch," which was a very common disease in the early times, was com- 
monly cured by an ointment made of brimstone and hog's lard. 

Burns were treated with poultices of Indian meal, scraped potatoes, roasted 
turnips and slippery elm bark. 

"For the bite of a rattle snake or copper-head a great variety of specifics 
were used. I remember when yet a small boy to have seen a man bitten by a 
rattle snake brought into the fort on a man's back. One of the company drag- 
ged the snake after him by a forked stick fastened in its head. The body of the 
snake was cut into pieces of about two inches in length, split open in succes- 
sion, and laid on the wound to "draw out the poison" as they expressed it. 
When this was over, a fire was kindled up in the fort yard and the whole 
serpent burned to ashes by way of revenge for the injury it had done. After 
this process was over a large quantity of chestnut leaves were collected and 
boiled in a pot. The whole cf the v/cunded man's leg and a part of his thigh 
were placed in a piece cf c":e3tnut baric fresh from the tree and the decoction 
poured on the leg so as to run down into the pot again. After continuing this 
process for some time a qujntily cf the boiled leaves were bound to the leg. 
This was repeated several times a day. The man got well, but whether owing 
to the treatm.ent bestowed on his wound is not so certain. 

A number of native plants were used for the cure of snake bites, among 
them the white plantain held a high rank. This was boiled in milk and the de- 
<;oction given the patient in large quantities. 

Cupping and sucking the wound and making deep incisions, which were 
filled with salt and gun powder, were amongst the remedies for snake bites, 

253 



It doesn't appear to me that any of the internal remedies used by the Indians 
and the first settlers of the country were well adapted for the cure of the dis- 
ease occasioned by the bite of a snake." 

"Charms and incantations were in use for the cure of many diseases," says 
the same early writer. "I learned when young the incantation in German for 
the cure of burns, stopping blood, toothache and the charm against bullets in 
battle; but for want of faith in their efficacy I never used any of them." 

Erysipelas, or "St. Anthony's Fire," was circumscribed by the blood of a 
black cat. Hence there was scarcely a black cat to be seen whose ears and tail 
had not been frequently cropped for a contribution of blood. At a much later 
period we find where the same remedy was employed in the treatment of "shin- 
gles." Our informant tells us that it was necessary to get a cat that had ab- 
solutely no white hairs on it, kill it and apply the blood to the shingles, and, lo! 
your patient's life is saved, for you know if this belt-like affection extends 
around the body and meets it is sure death. The blood of a black cat will keep 
it from meeting, although I never saw a case meet, even where this remedy 
was not used, but it is a very reliable treatment and would be used much oftener 
than it is, if it were not for the bad luck that always goes with killing cats." 

Cats were not the only animals used in early-day medicine. Live toads 
were said to be a great remedy for "white-swelling" or other form of abscess or 
running sore. They were used by tying them on the afflicted parts and letting 
them remain there and cry or squeal until dead. 

A remedy for whooping cough was to take the child to the flouring mill 
and give it a good shaking up in the hopper. If the case was of only ordinary 
severity, this would be sufficient, but if it proved to be exceptionally obstinate, 
a favorite remedy was to "find a stallion, run him until he snorts, then have 
the patient inhale his breath." 

Another remedy for croup was to "saturate a thread of woolen yarn with 
turpentine, pull it through the fingers to remove the excess and tie it about the 
child's neck." Persons troubled wdth nose-bleeding were advised to wear a 
black, not a white, ribbon about the neck. 

In addition to the large decoctions of all kinds of horrible herbs and the 
smothering and sweating used in fevers, as noted before, we find in some lo- 
calities it was considered good practice to poultice the feet of a fever patient 
with horse-radish leaves and similar strong applications for the purpose of 
"drawing the fever out through the feet," certainly a very worthy purpose, and 
going after it by that route was apt to be fraught with a great deal less danger 
to the patient than the pouring into him by mouth of the gallons of disagree- 
eble and entirely useless "herb-teas" above referred to. One of the good old 
grandmothers tells us that in her girlhood days headache was cured by "cutting 
a lock of hair from the crown of the head and burying it under a stone on the 
north side of the house." That is easy enough and beats the celebrated so and 
so headache powders of to-day all to pieces, for no depressed hearts from 
acetanilid poisoning can come from that! 

254 



She also states that in her community asthma had a somewhat similar treat- 
ment, namely, "bore a hole in a sweet apple tree, put a lock of the patient's 
hair in it and plug it up." There must have been something very efficacious 
about this method of treating asthma, or "phthisic," as it was also called, for 
we find the older people everywhere tell us of this same remedy applied per- 
haps with slightly different "technique" in different localities, but the essential 
features of which were the same. 

For instance, in some reminiscences quoted elsewhere, it is told just how 
high to bore the hole and when to expect results. A very estimable lady whose 
picture appears in this volume says that in her case a poplar tree was used, and 
a bunch of her hair plugged into it, "and I was never bothered much with the 
phthisic afterwards, but then I might have outgrown it, anyway." Such skep- 
ticism! How could any one doubt the efficacy of such a widespread and long- 
established remedy? 

Judging from the number of persons who have tried this treatment, or who 
have seen it tried, we must conclude that phthisic was formerly a very prevalent 
complaint, especially among girls. This conclusion is also strengthened by the 
statement of a lumberman who has been cutting timber all through this region 
for the past thirty or forty years, and who says that he has found many a tree with 
the tell-tale hole and plug in it. We can easily understand, in those cases that 
were not as promptly cured as others, or that persisted in spite of this time- 
honored treatment, how failure could have resulted from not selecting the 
right kind of a tree; from putting in too much or too little hair; from boring 
the hole too high or too deep; or driving the plug in too tight! Perhaps it was 
on account of these numerous opportunities for error to creep into the method 
of applying the treatment, that it has dropped so completely out of use at the 
present day. 

There were those who believed firmly in the efficacy of rubbing a child's 
jaws against the side of a hog-trough to cure mumps. There was no getting 
away from their testimony, for they had seen it done and knew it would surely 
cure if done right and at the right time. Why, they had even seen where one 
member of the family was a great deal worse than the others, simply because 
he had not bowed down to the hog-trough, as the others had done. What bet- 
ter proof could any one ask than this? 

Many of our older readers, we are sure, have often heard of the wonderful 
curative properties of "sheep nannie tea" for measles. The writer has often 
been told of the use of this particular brand of barnyard pills, but he could 
never quite get any one to admit that he had used the remedy in his own case. 

If any of our younger readers do not understand what is meant by "sheep 
nannie tea" let them ask their grandparents, but don't ask any one if he ever 
took the "tea," for he won't admit it, if he did, no matter how much good it 
did his measles. 

Baby's sore mouth was considered almost a necessity, at least for one at- 
tack; some even went so far as to say it was good for the child, which perhaps 

255 



could not be healthy until it had an attack. Many queer remedies were used 
to cure it. One was to gather nine small twigs from a peach tree, and after 
drawing each one through the mouth of the afflicted child, bind them together 
and hang them in the chimney; as they dried up from the heat of the fireplace 
the sore mouth disappeared. 

"Yaller janders," or jaundice, was cured by digging a sod by the roadside 
and hanging it in the chimney corner. 

A harmless, if not entirely effective method of stopping bleeding from the 
lungs, was to place an axe under the patient's bed. When all other poultices 
failed, one made from fresh cow manure was sure to produce results. 

All kinds of remedies were employed to remove warts. One that never 
failed was to steal a dishrag, rub it over the warts, then bury it. When the 
rag rots the warts disappear. Hundreds of others equally effective could be 
given. 

The older folks were supposed to know the medicinal value of almost every 
weed and shrub that grew, and a long list of plants could be named whose spe- 
cial virtues were once largely depended upon to preserve the family health. For 
instance, the Jamestown weed was smoked for asthma. The juice of ripe poke- 
berries dried in the sun was a specific for cancer. Sourdock root made an oint- 
ment for itch and tetter. "Life-everlasting" was made into poultices for "draw- 
ing swellings to a head." Burdock root and blackberry root were made into 
"teas" for dysenteries. For other forms of bowel trouble the steaming vapor 
from mullein was used. Bonset, or thorostem tea, was a stand-by that could 
be used for fevers, colds, rheumatism, ague and a host of other things. Grape 
vine sap would make the hair grow. Elderberry bark, made into a salve with 
suet, was just the thing for sores and burns. "Sassafras tea," especially when 
made with sugar water, was not a bad substitute for coffee, and a favorite 
"spring medicine to purify and thin the blood." Pennyroyal tea would produce 
sweat and break up a cold, and the old reliable catnip tea for colicky babies 
was an absolute family necessity; and so we might go on through the whole 
botanical catalogue. Nature is a great healer, and "time cures many ills." Our 
forefathers seemed to have learned long ago what the quacks and side branches 
cf medicine are feasting on to day — that most diseases get well themslves, and 
that some simple, harmless decoction of plant or shrub would serve to satisfy 
the mind that something was being done, while time cured the patient. 



256 



MEDICAL. (Continued.) 
Old-time Healers, Grannie Vernon, etc. 

Not only were all kinds of medicinal agents used for the cure of bodily ail- 
ments and afflictions, but here and there throughout the country in the days of 
our great-grandparents at least, and some of them down to a much later date, 
were to be found individuals, usually old women, possessed with some super- 
natural or mysterious healing powers, to whom confiding folk went with their 
afflictions from far and near. And many and wonderful were the cures thus 
wrought. With doctors so few and far away we can little wonder that in their 
ignorance of the cause and nature of disease, these worthy ancestors of ours 
availed themselves of every cure that was heard of even to the witch-like mys- 
ticism of these specially qualified oM women. Disorders of the blood, chronic 
complaints of various kinds and especially "bealins," abscesses, felons, gathered 
breasts and the like were prone to be sent to these "healers," and many persons 
yet living can tell you, either from their own childhood experience or from 
stories told by their parents, of felons put back, rheumatism cured, "watery 
blood" restored, and all kinds of aches and pains made to vanish almost miracu- 
lously by the touch or ceremony of one of these gifted old-time healers. For 
instance, one of the old grandmothers used to tell how, when she was a young 
girl, nearly a hundred years ago, she became pale and sickly looking from "thin 
blood," and her mother took her on behind en horseback many miles across 
the country to a "healing woman," who rubbed her all over carefully from above 
downward and then "bled" her in the foot. Nothing but water was said to come 
from the "bleeding." The awe-inspiring old healer then gave her some decoc- 
tion made from herbs and sent her home, and, lo! she lived to be ninety years 
eld. Another grandmother remembers to have had one time a beginning "ca- 
tarrh" of the hand, which was taken to old Grannie Morris, a famour pow wow 
healer of the Redstone region, who held the hand and said queer things over 
it for half an hour, and the palmer abscess never materialized, the pain quickly 
left and the hand was well, thus adding another wonderful "cure" to the old 
lady's long list of successes, and another welcome coin to her accumulated 
treasure, for seldom did the recipients of such miraculous cures fail to leave a 
small donation, which we suspect was usually looked for. 

Perhaps the most famous of these old-time witch-healers within the time 
and territory comprised in our sketches, was one who lived far beyond her own 
day and generation, and was therefore known to many who may read this 
book. If you ever lived in the neighborhood of East Liberty you have surely 
known or heard of "Old Betsy Vernon," widow of Warner Vernon, who for 
many years maintained a tannery a few miles out on the road from East Lib- 
erty to Flatwoods. As long as the writer can remember she was the oldest 
woman in all the country around about — tall and stooped and wrinkled and 

257 



shaky, impressing one with the thought that she v/as but the tottering, time- 
worn ruins of a once magnificent specimen of physical development, which she 
no doubt was in her youth, and when she died at the ripe old age of 104, there 
probably died with her the secret, and the last remnant of that peculiar and 
mysterious old-time healing power, born of superstition and ignorance, and 
handed down from generation to generation until finally destroyed by the ad- 
vent of free schools and a more liberal education. 

We have said she was shaky. As we remember her now, she was one of 
the most pronounced cases of Paralysis Agitans, or "Shaking Palsy," we have 
tver seen. This is a nervous disease that seldom causes death and never gets 
well, and old Grannie Vernon, with her peculiar shaking of the head and hands, 
her strong-smelling pipe — for she was an inveterate smoker — and her fame for 
curing all kinds of "gatherings" or abscesses, was long a familiar character 
throughout this region. 

From boyhood up we had been accustomed to hear of this woman's myster- 
ious powers and often we had wished for some excuse to put her to the test. 
Finally our opportunity came. One of our schoolmates, a boy of about our 
own age, had a very painful swelling of the thumb, which, to all appearances, 
was going to be a felon. We had little trouble in persuading him to go with 
us to see "Old Grannie." We were delighted, not that our chum had so much 
pain, but that we would now have a chance perhaps to fathom the mystery of 
the tan-yard "healer." If we remember correctly, it was on a Sunday after- 
noon when we two boys stole quietly off across the fields to the old log house 
by the roadside. We dared not let our parents know where we were going, 
for we knew we were going more for fun and investigation than we were for 
any good we expect to get out of it, besides, it was Sunday. 

Old Grannie was at home smoking her pipe and shaking away as usual, and 
was soon in full sympathy with the afflicted thumb. Yes, it was a felon sure 
enough, and she had the power in the palm of her right hand to cure it. She 
would hold it tightly in her hand, as she had held hundreds before, until the 
pain passed from the suffering victim into her own hand and arm, after which 
he would go away cured. 

This looked fair enough and we assured our chum there could be no harm 
in trying. He did so. The good old woman took the thumb into her with- 
ered, trembling palm with a great deal more sincerity, we confess, than was 
possessed by either the owner of the thumb or his companion. We watched 
carefully for the expected "incantatious, rights and ceremonies." She said 
there were none. She had no "words" to say. To her there was nothing mys- 
terious about it. It was a "power" she had in the palm of her hand, and that 
was all there was of it. To her that "power" was as real and as tangible as 
the silver quarter my friend placed in her other hand. We were impressed 
with her simple-minded honesty and sincerity. How, then, did she get that 
"power"? Perhaps she would not object to telling two school boys who would 
be greatly interested in knowing? Certainly not. It was a simple story. At 

258 



three different times, which, of course, had to be, according to certain tradi- 
tional rules, her grandmother had made her hold a live ground-mole in the palm 
of her hand until it was smothered; this all had to be done before she was seven 
years old, and having done this according to the prescribed manner, she ever 
afterwards had the "power" to heal with the palm of her hand. Just whether 
the recital of this simple bit of superstition robbed our boy friend of the neces- 
sary "faith" or not, we cannot tell, but for some reason or other, the magic 
healing failed to work, and the deep-seated abscess of the thumb had to be 
opened and treated by a physician in a less poetic but more effective way. 

Such is the story of "Old Betsy Vernon." You would smile now at the 
credulity of any one who would go to such a person for healing; but you would 
not have to search long in the community where this, or some other old "healer" 
has lived, to find persons even to this day whose faith in such things is un- 
shaken, for how can they help but believe what they have seen with their owm 
eyes? 

It may be barely possible that some of you who smile the loudest are at 
this very moment carrying in the deepest corner of one of your pockets the 
time-honored horse-chestnut to prevent rheumatism; secretly wearing around 
your neck a silk thread to prevent quinsy; or silently worrying over the un- 
favorable predictions of a fortune-teller, in whom of course you do not believe, 
but whose silly words you cannot quite banish from your mind. No, so long 
as these things are true, superstition is not all dead, and our readers would be 
more than human if some of them, at least, have not at one time or another 
gone off after this or that medical cult, "new method of healing," "nature's 
restorative," "mind curer," religio-medical "faith healer." "bone setter" or a hun- 
dred other pseudo-scientific, or quasi-religious fads, fancies or frauds, which 
have sometimes deceived the very elect themselves, and which from time im- 
memorial have sprung up under one name or another, and have clung to the 
outer edges of the real garment of science, like the scavengers and vultures that 
follow around about the camp of a great conquering army. But we need not 
despair that this is so; that a "Grannie Morris" or a "Betsy Vernon" could 
have a following among intelligent people; that an enlightened age should 
furnish adherents enough to keep sundry false cults alive. It has always been 
so. In the history of medicine there never was a propaganda so erroneous, 
a method of practice so utterly absurd that it did not number its devotees by 
the thousands, and that, too, among the most prominent, and sometimes the 
best educated people of the land. This would be a reflection on the intelligence 
of the race, sad enough, indeed, were it not far overwhelmed by the fact that 
thousands of the world's very best men and women are always and everywhere 
devoting their lives, unselfishly and without price, to the working out of the 
problems of disease, and the prevention of sickness and suffering. To the man 
or woman who is a physician in very truth; who follows the science and art of 
medicine unlabeled by any dogma or name; who, like the Great Physician, goes 
about doing good, untrammeled by any ism or pathy, there is something in- 

259 



spiring in the thought that his is the most uniquely unselfish and humanitarian 
of all the professions or vocations of life. It is the only calling followed by 
man in which, if he were to accomplish its highest ideal — the prevention of 
disease — he would take away the very means by which he subsists. And the 
real science of medicine is moving with great strides toward this very ideal. 
We wish space would permit even the briefest summary of what has been done 
in this direction in a single lifetime. We wish even more, that we might 
enumerate a small part of what we confidently believe will come in the near 
future from the following up of the steps already taken. For instance, the 
discovery but a few years ago of bacteria as the cause of disease, has already 
revolutionized the healing art, and has placed under control, if not practically 
abolished, diseases that less than fifty years ago annually carried away one- 
tenth of our population; and the possibilities of this one discovery are only 
just beginning to be realized. 

Antitoxins, serums and vaccines are now being carefully worked out in 
the great laboratories and medical centres of the world, that must soon place 
in subjection other great devastating diseases, the same as has already been 
done with small-pox, diphtheria and other once dreaded scourges. 

The opsonic vaccines which have barely been announced to the world are 
apparently destined to work wonders along many lines. And all this is the 
direct result of one discovery made less than fifty years ago. Not only is this 
true in medicine proper, but in surgery and midwifery the results are equally 
marvelous. 

The discovery of bacteria led to the perfecting of antiseptics, or substances 
to kill bacteria and thus prevent wound infection, and the practical application 
of the principles of antisepsis to all kinds of surgery and to midwifery, though 
only dating since 1876, has in that short time wrought marvels most wonderful 
£nd beneficent. 

The death rate following all manner of operations has been reduced fully 
50 per cent., and not only has antisepsis saved a half more of those operated 
upon, but it has enabled the surgeon to hopefully operate upon fully 50 per 
cent, more of his patients, who, prior to its use, must have died for want of 
operation. Thus it may truthfully be said that at least a hundred per cent, 
more lives are saved to-day, in the field of surgery alone, than were saved fifty 
years ago. Not only has all kinds of surgery been made comparatively safe, 
but more merciful still, it has been made painless by the discovery of anaesthe- 
tics, which also dates only since 1846. But this is not all. Fifty years ago it 
was no uncommon experience for physicians in attendance upon women in 
childbirth to have from five to ten deaths out of every one hundred cases. Now, 
thanks to our knowledge of antisepsis, the maternal mortality has been reduced 
to almost nothing. A physician with whom we are well acquainted has attended 
ever three thousand cases without the death of a single mother. 

Far be it from the writer to appear in any way to boast — God knows we 
have little enough to boast about yet — when he humbly states that in the ten 

260 



years he has been in practice, during which time he has had a fairly large ex- 
perience, having for several years past been a teacher and a specialist in this 
kind of work, he has never had the death of a mother in childbirth. 

The loss of his own mother, as elsewhere referred to, has ever stood out 
before him as a sad incentive to the best efforts and the greatest care that he 
is capable of giving to woman 

"in the hour 
When the vail of the body we feel 
Rent round us, while torments reveal 
The motherhood's advent in power." 

How we wish space would permit the enumeration of a score of other 
achievements scarcely less noteworthy or beneficent, all the result of self-sac- 
rificing, patient toil upon the part of men and women devoted to that noblest 
of all professions, 

"For we think the calling we pursue 
The grandest, noblest and the best; 
Because in it there's most to do. 
And by it is the world most blest." 




261 



I2>T..Z^ 



In preparing the foregoing sketches it has been necessary to go frequently 
into that ever interesting domain known as "the past," and in so doing there 
have been brought constantly to our attention the great changes in everything 
about us, even in so short a time as a half a century, to say nothing of that 
longer period reaching back to the days of our great-grandparents. 

So remarkable have been these differences in the mode of living within a 
comparatively few years that we are led to reflect in the words of some un- 
known scribe: 

"How wondrous are the changes 
Since fifty years ago! 
When girls wore woolen dresses; 

And boys wore pants of tow; 
When shoes were made of cowhide; 

And socks from homespun wool, 
And children did a half day's work 
Before they went to school. 

The girls took music lessons 

Upon the spinning wheel, 
And practiced late and early 

On spindle, swift and reel; 
The boys would ride the horse to mill, 

A dozen miles or so, 
And hurry off before 'twas day, 

Some fifty years ago. 

The people rode to meeting 

In sleds instead of sleighs; . 
And wagons rode as easy 

As buggies nowadays; 
And oxen answered well for teams, 

Though now they'd be too slow, 
For people lived not half so fast 

Some fifty years ago. 

Yes, everything is altered; 

I cannot tell the cause; 
For men are always tampering 

With Nature's wondrous laws; 

262 



And what on earth we're coming to — 

Does anybody know — 
For everything has changed so much 

Since fifty years ago." 

We know that many of our readers who have followed us through these 
various and all too poorly written old-time sketches are prone to think, with 
Eugene Field, that "there are no days like the good old days," and while we 
younger folks may not always agree with you in this sentiment, or may not 
all believe that everything that was good and great and grand belonged wholly 
to the past, yet for your sakes and for this once at least we will admit that — 

"There are no days like the good old days — 

The days when we were youthful; 
When humankind were pure of mind 

And speech and deeds were truthful; 
Before a love for sordid gold 

Became man's ruling passion. 
And before each dame and maid berame 

Slaves to the tyrant fashion. 

There are no girls like the good old girls — 

Against the world I'd stake 'em — 
As buxom and smart and clean of heart 

As the Lord knew how to make 'em. 
They were rich in spirit and common sense, 

A piety all supportin'; 
They could bake and brew, and had taught school, too, 

And they made the likeliest courtin'. 

There are no boys like the good old boys 

When we were boys together; 
When the grass was sweet to the brown bare feet 

That dimpled the laughing heather; 
When the pewee sung to the summer dawn 

Of the bee in the billowy clover. 
Or down by the mill the whip-poor-will 

Echoed his night song over. 

There is no love like the good old love — 

The love that mother gave us. 
We are old, old men. yet we pine again 

For that precious grace — God save us. 

2(3 




So we dream and dream of the good old times, 
And our hearts grow tenderer, fonder, 

As those dear old dreams bring soothing gleams 
Of heaven away off yonder." 



Perhaps in some respects, at least, it would be better for all of us if a little 
more of the "good old past," with all its inconveniences, were still mingled with 
the "weaker and wiser" present, especially in our home-life. We pride our- 
selves on our present day luxuries and domestic conveniences; on cair hand- 
some houses with all the latest appointments and comforts; and yet there is 
just enough old fogyism in the writer to make him sometimes feel that when 
the dirt-making, smoke-producing (but health-preserving) old open fireplace 
was driven out of our houses by steam or other modern methods of heating, 
something was lost from the character-making forces of home that can never 
be replaced, and the want of which must always be felt in the lives of those 
who are thus obliged to go out into the world from beside a "hole in the wall" 
instead of from the poetic chimney corner. No silent register, or lifeless radia- 
tor can ever put sentiment, inspiration and character into a boy or girl like the 

Jt,4 



old open fireplace with its shooting sparks, its dancing, singing flames and its 
glowing satisfying coals. You may 

"Talk about yer buildin's 

That's het up by steam — 
Give me the old oak fire 

Where the old folks used to dream. 

The rickety dog-iron, 

One-sided as could be; 
The ashes banked with 'taters 

That was roastin' there fer me. 

The dog on one side, drowsin', 

Or barkin' nigh the door; 
The kitten cuttin' capers 

With the knittin' on the floor. 

An' me a little tow-head 

By mammy's side at night; 
With both my cheeks a-burnin' 

From the red flames leapin' bright. 

These steam-het buildin's make me 

Jes weary for the blaze 
That was heap more comfortable 

In my childhood's nights an' days. 

An' I'd give the finest heater 

In the buildin's het by steam 
Fer the old-time chimbley corner 

Where the old folks used to dream." 

And when we think of that old "chimbley corner" what a train of precious 
childhood memories starts, and startles us with thinking of all we've lost in 
losing our youth. It was not only here where the "old folks used to dream," 
but here we dreamed, and saw in the ever-changing blaze before us, our first vis- 
ions of life's coming battles. Here we heard the stories told that filled our 
souls with horrors, and here we learned to read the books that opened up an- 
other world; here we experienced at Christmas time the purest joy of all our 
childish life, as we received with undoubting faith the story of Santa Claus and 
the reindeers and felt as never before the beneficent kindness of the mason who 
had left such a great open chimney expressly, it seemed to us. to accommodate 
old "Kris" with his big pack on his back. Did ever a fire smile back so bright 

265 



cr ever an act of childish faith bring half so much joy and excitement as ac- 
companied the careful placing of a row of stockings just where they could be 
seen and reached the easiest? And then the hurrjang down to investigate and 
enjoy the surprises next morning! What a downright shame it was when we 
finally had to be undeceived, for as we look back now, there is nothing in all 
the years that stands out so bright, so dear to the heart, so fraught with the 
tender memories of father and mother as the "Christmas time of long ago," 
when 

"The snowflakes on the sleeping earth their downy mantle flung, 
While clanging through the frosty air the Christmas joy-bells rung. 
It is the hour of eventide — the glowing fire burns low, 
And in its depths fair pictures gleam of Christmas long ago. 

I see the little cottage nestled close behind the hill; 

To us it was a refuge sweet from every earthly ill. 

The blazing logs upon the hearth give forth a ruddy sheen 

To tinge the frosted panes bedecked with wreaths of evergreen. 

I see the little stockings hung beside the ingle nook; 
I see the childish faces — oh, how gay and bright they look! 
While from the little trundle-beds their merry voices hum, 
As eagerly they wonder just 'when Santa Claus will come.' 

How busy were our mothers then from morn until they slept. 

And from the quaint old kitchen spicy odors upward crept 

From shelves all groaning 'neath the pies of pumpkin and of mince — 

Such appetizing goodies have I never tasted since. 

Dear faces that I see to-night have gone beyond the skies. 
From them the joyous Christmas Day now dawns in Paradise. 
But they seem to hover near me in the firelight's fitful glow. 
Sweet spirits of the Christmas-time, dear Christmas long ago." 

But our little journey into the past — into the scenes of other days, does 
not stop at the winter fireside. If you were so richly blessed of God as to have 
been born and raised in the country, we know these various references to your 
younger days bring vividly to your mind the woods and fields and streams; 
the entire freedom you used to enjoy in roaming the hills, or fishing in the 
brocks, or gathering wild flowers in the woods. As you grew a little older 
and the cares and burdens of life began to press a little heavier upon you, and 
you came to feel at times the necessity of getting away from all that was arti 
firial and tiresome, how you enjoyed to get off into the very depths of the 
woodland, and be for a time alone with the birds and flowers and trees. It put 

26b 



w life in you, and sent you back to your erstwhile prosy duties, with a smile 

stead of a frown, with a whistle instead of a whine, and in good humor with 

lurself and everybody about you. We remember once coming out of the 

onotonous and wholly artificial surroundings of a term's schooling and find- 

g just such relief and pleasure as we have above mentioned, beneath the trees 

the old hillside woods, where as we sat drinking in the refreshing beauties 

nature, we gave vent to our feelings in the following lines which may serve 

help some of our readers, at least, to "take a trip on memory's ship" away 

Dm the busy toils of the crowded mart to the woodland paths of their boy- 

lod: 

How pleasant and how free from care. 

When aweary of Life's lessons dull, 
To stroll away in open air 

To the balmy woodland's quiet lull! 

In darkest shades 'mid breezes cool 

While flows the winding rippling brook. 
To sit and learn in Nature's school 

Great lessons from her open book! 

Tall trees above whose leafy tops 

Commingled in one verdant roof. 
Enclose beneath for him who stops, 
A rustic seat from sunshine proof; 

While at his feet grow wild and gay. 
Sweet summer flowers and grasses green, 
Who lift their heads, it seems, and say, 
What stranger's this upon the scene? 

The merry birds whose cheerful notes 

Go mingling with the brooklet's hum. 
Are startled, too, and from their throats 

Cries of alarm and warning come. 

Each gentle breeze new life imparts, 

And songs of birds and flowers bright 
Are precious balms for weary hearts 

That soon must make them pure and light. 

Oh thus to let the soul drink in 

These sweetest draughts from Nature's fount! 

They make weak man with Heaven akin. 
And give him strength to hither mount! 

267 



Perhaps if you have wandered far from the sunshine and shadows of you 
boyhood, and have long been swallowed up in the vortex of the great bus; 
world, you may have forgotten the pleasures you once knew in Nature's fount 
and flowers and singing birds. You may have grown very wise and wealthy 
and books and banks and business burdens may have so crowded out all though 
cf your once free and happy boyhood, that when you do get a sane moment t 
reflect on the past, or some intruder brings it to your attention, as we hav 
humbly tried to do. you are amazed at how much you have forgotten of tha 
"knowledge never learned of schools; of the wild bees' morning chase; of th 
wild flowers time and place; flight of fowls and habitude of the tenants of th 
wood," and you fully appreciate the feelings of that most delightful of our chile 
hood poets, when he says: 

"I once knew all the birds that came 

And nested in our orchard trees; 
For every flower I had a name — 

My friends were woodchucks, toads and bees: 
I knew where thrived in yonder glen 

What plants would soothe a stone bruised toe — 
Oh, I was very learned then — 

But that was very long ago. 

I knew the spot upon the hill 

Where the checkerberries could be found; 
I knew the rushes near the mill 

Where pickerel lay that weighed a pound! 
I knew the wood — the very tree — 

Where lived the poaching, saucy crow, 
And all the woods and crows knew me — 

But that was very long ago. 

And pining for the joys of youth, 

I tread the old familiar spot, 
Only to learn this solemn truth: 

I have forgotten, am forgot. 
Yet here's this youngster at my knee 

Knows all the things I used to know; 
To think I once was wise as he! — 

But that was very long ago. 

I know it's folly to complain 

Of whatso'er the fates decree; 
Yet, were not wishes all in vain, 

I tell you what my wish should be: 

268 



I'd wish to be a boy again. 

Back with the friends I used to know; 
For I was, oh, so happy then — 

But that was very long ago." 

And if all of this has set you thinking, or better still, has turned your wan- 
dering footsteps backward over the once familiar scenes of your youth, it n| 
well; it will do you good to lose yourself for a time in the reverie that carries 
j'ou as far as possible from the present and makes you "in fancy tread once 
more the wayside path to the schoolhouse door," and if it were at all possible, 
it would do you even more good to go in reality back to the scenes of your 
school-days, "dear old golden rule days," but you should ever bear in mind the 
lesson of one who 

"Sought the old scenes with eager feet, 

The scenes he had known as a boy — 
Oh, for a draft of those fountains sweet 

And a taste of that vanished joy! 
He roamed the fields, he mused by the streams, 

He threaded the paths and lanes 
On the hills he sought his youthful dreams, 

In the woods he forgot his pains. 
OJi, sad, sad hills, oh, cold, cold hearth. 

In sorrow he learned the truth — 
One may go back to the place of his birth; 

He cannot go back to his youth!" 

The writer of these sketches had this truth very impressively brought to 
his mind while on a recent visit to one of his early boyhood dwelling places; a 
place he had not seen except in passing, for more than thirty years, but a 
place doubly endeared to him from its having been not only his home for a 
time in early childhood, but the birthplace and early home of his mother; and 
again her dwelling place in later life, and finally the scene of her sad, untimely 
death at the early age of thirty-two. 

As we stood for the first time since the year of our mother's death, in that 
little back room of the old Oglevee Homestead, where, in giving life to another 
she yielded up her own, we could not help but reflect that here as a child, with 
our younger brothers and sister, we had been robbed of our dearest earthly 
I friend, by the offering up of her pure young life as a needless sacrifice on the 
altar of the medical ignorance of her day. 

Going out from this dark spot, we sought to cheer our saddened heart with 
the brighter scenes of our childhood playgrounds. Only thirty one years! But 
how much the place — the boy — had changed in that time! Here and there a 
familiar spot is still recognizable in that old back yard sloping down from the 
hillside orchard; one or two of those great old black heart cherry trees, now 

269 



almost dead, still standing out there on the path to the barn, or rather to when 
the barn used to be, for it is now all torn away after a hundred years or mon 
of faithful service to man and beast. The old spring still sends out its abund 
ance of pure cold water, and the fragrant mint is growing around that benefi 
cent old watering trough, just as it did thirty years ago. But we failed to fin( 
the spinning wheels and all the curious old things that used to fill the garret 
The grape-vines did not appear to climb in such endless interwoven meshe; 
along the garden fence and onto the walls of the old smokehouse as they usee 
to do. 

In the edge of the orchard we sought in vain for the old harvest apple tree 
It had done its work and gone, but when once again on the spot we could al 
most see and taste those mellow "redstreaks" yet, and the recollection of then 
set us thinking of all the fun we used to have in and around that old friendl] 
tree. 

Some of you will recall that tree, if not that particular one, you will eacl 
one think of another like it, that stood somewhere about the dear old home 
place, in which you used to climb when a boy and from whose leafy boughi 
you gathered apples, the like of which you never expect to see again. What « 
host of memories cluster 'round 

"That old harvest apple tree — 

Haunt of boy, and bird, and bee — 
With its arms held wide to welcome all the breeze's revelry! 

You remember where it grew; 

And remember how we knew 
All the goodness and the gladness that it held for me and you. 

When the wind was soft and low, 

How the leaves swayed to and fro 
With the sunshine sifting through them to the dappled grass below; 

And the shimmer and the shade 

Were an endless cavalcade 
Of the fairy troops of summer to attend us as we played! 

In the branches, waving high, 

We were sailors, and we'd cry 
An Ahoy! to all the argosies of clouds a-scudding by. 

On the grass below we'd weave 

All the fancies that deceive 
And convince us of the trueness of the land of make believe. 

And the yellow apples, too — 
Sweetned by the dripping dew. 
Faintly blushing at the kisses that the teasing sunshine threw — 
O, the famed Hesperides 

270 



Never yielded such as these, 
With a winy tang that coaxed us till we sipped it to the lees! 

The old harvest apple tree — 

Haunt of boy, and bird, and bee — 
With its arms that waved a welcome every day to you and me! 

Clear in memory's dim haze, 

Happily it swings and sways, 
Wafting us a thousand echoes of the cherished yesterdays!" 

And with the hope that these humble sketches may in some measure help 
to reflect and prolong the thousand echoes of your cherished yesterdays, they 
are 

CORDIALLY DEDICATED BY THE AUTHOR 

as 
Another bond to the seal of family friendship. 
Another cord to the ties that bind the past to the present. 
And another impulse to the love of God and fellow man. 




271 



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libhaiit iindinq 




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